


Be My Forever

by Casloveshisfreckles



Series: Pugstiel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (pretty much all the time), Abusive John Winchester, Artist Dean Winchester, Bike Messenger Dean Winchester, Bookstore Owner Castiel, Brother Feels, Brotherly Angst, Cas has a pet pig, Comfort/Angst, DCBB, DCBB2019, Dean/Cas Big Bang 2019 (Supernatural), Destiel - Freeform, Dog Walker Dean Winchester, Enough smut to earn the Explicit rating, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, New York City setting, Novak Twins, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Stanford Sam, The Brothers Winchester - Freeform, Washington Square Park, and humor, cute boys falling in love, team switch, when I use the fluff tag I mean it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-02-01 05:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 150,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casloveshisfreckles/pseuds/Casloveshisfreckles
Summary: When he receives word of the sudden passing of his Uncle Chuck, the man who raised him and his twin brother, Jimmy, Castiel finds himself uprooting his quiet, uneventful life in Washington and moving back to New York.Faced with the shadows of his past and the tattered remains of his uncle’s bookshop that he desperately wants to restore, Castiel seeks solace in the company of his feisty niece, Claire, and his best friend, Pug, the miniature pig. Pug has an attitude fit to match his fashion sense, so it’s no wonder that they soon become the talk of the neighborhood.Then comes Dean Winchester - a man as vibrant as his ever-changing hair color. Pug wastes no time expressing his love for Dean, but it’s not quite that simple for a human.Navigating his new and often rocky road that is his life in New York, Castiel soon realizes that things always seem brighter when Dean is around, and he doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. Is Dean really the answer to everything? Can he be the rainbow after the storm that Castiel has needed for so long? Pug thinks so.
Relationships: Amelia Novak/Jimmy Novak, Bela Talbot/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Pugstiel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581196
Comments: 149
Kudos: 537
Collections: DCBB 2019, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic came completely on a whim and a stray thought… what if Cas had a pig? It grew from something casually mentioned to what you see today and it would never exist as it is if it wasn’t for [Jess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291869/chapters/50700950) and [Kay](https://kayrosebee.tumblr.com). 
> 
> About halfway through this fic, I figured out that I would need a beta and there was no question in my mind about asking them for their help. In the last year, they’ve become two of my closest friends and if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t know how it feels to hug Misha Collins and you wouldn’t be reading this fic. So Jess, Kay, thank you. Not only for helping me with every word of this fic, but for loving Dean, Cas, and Pug as much as they deserve to be loved. Oh and for all the amazing friendship and support you’ve given me without question in the last year. All that too. I guess I forgive you for making me stalk Misha that one time. I love you bitches, too. 
> 
> Now let me talk about the art that was created for this fic by the amazing destiel-love-forever. Tay was amazing to work with. She read my story and then was like, here’s a ton of beautiful, detailed art for it! Seriously, she’s been a dream. Please go give her some love on her masterpost! You can find it [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21406426) Thank you for the amazing hard work you’ve done to help bring my story to life, Tay! I hope we get another chance to work together in the future!
> 
> Thanks as always to the mods, congratulations on another successful year! 
> 
> All that said, on to the particulars… I went back and forth a few times on the title for this fic, until I heard Be My Forever by Christina Perri. Once I saw it was from the album that gave me the title to Love Has A Quiet Voice, I knew it was the universe telling me something. It can be found on the playlist for this fic, which I enjoy and hope you do too. You can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3yK4KNYFeuTjUCgmY5jeDW?si=pVLLZuMxRRii8G7JIBNo_Q). 
> 
> Something new I’m sharing is my Pinterest board for this fic… I finally created a fic account so if you’ve read some of my other long fics, there are boards for them too on the account but the link to the board for this fic can be found below, along with links to my Tumblr and my Twitter accounts, if you want to say hello! 
> 
> [Tumblr](https://casloveshisfreckles.tumblr.com) — [Twitter](https://twitter.com/caslvshsfreckls) — [Pinterest](https://pin.it/oyctgpp5qfst72) — [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3yK4KNYFeuTjUCgmY5jeDW?si=pVLLZuMxRRii8G7JIBNo_Q)
> 
> That’s enough from me. I appreciate anyone who is here to read and I hope you enjoy my submission for this years DeanCas Big Bang!

_ “All that is gold does not glitter _

_ Not all those who wander are lost; _

_ The old that is strong does not wither, _

_ Deep roots are not reached by the frost. _

_ From the ashes, a fire shall be woken, _

_ A light from the shadows shall spring; _

_ Renewed shall be blade that was broken, _

_ The crownless again shall be king.” _

“Cassie!” 

Thudding footfalls pound up the stairs, and the front door to the apartment flies open. 

“Castiel!” 

Startled out of Middle Earth and back to reality, Castiel Novak sits straight up in alarm. “What  _ is _ it, Jimmy? Why are you yelling?” 

“I’ve been calling you for the last five minutes, Castiel!” Castiel’s brother, his  _ twin _ brother, to be exact, is standing in the doorway, hands on his hips and exuding as much indignation as his twelve-year-old body can muster. “Uncle said to be ready and waiting downstairs by ten, which I  _ was _ , but you—you weren’t and now—we’re going to be late.” 

Castiel sighs and places his bookmark in the spine of his book before gingerly setting it on the side table. He taped the cover back on a week ago and it’s not holding. Page two hundred twenty-seven fell out while he was reading in bed last night. 

_ The Fellowship of the Ring _ is one of his favorite books.

“Is he back?” 

Jimmy fidgets and looks over his shoulder, down the stairs to the storeroom below. “That’s not—” 

“Jimmy,” Castiel sighs again. “You know Uncle Chuck always runs late. Please stop worrying.” 

“Boys? Jimmy—Castiel?” Their uncle’s voice carries up the old, red, wooden staircase, followed by the sound of their uncles ancient pug, Yankee, named after the baseball team—the cutest and dumbest dog Castiel’s ever met, her short claws clicking and clacking up the stairs. Her little legs can hardly keep up with her enthusiasm to see the twins. 

Jimmy’s eyes are wide when he looks back at Castiel, who shrugs and rolls off the couch to tug on his trainers. 

“Coming, Uncle,” Jimmy calls down the stairs. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and pets the pug trying to climb up his leg. “Hey Yanks, have a good walk? You ready to go see the city?” The little dog prances around and Castiel laughs at her, happy to watch her instead of his brother standing next to the door and tapping his foot. 

“Just go down,” Castiel urges him. “I need to grab my bag, I’ll lock up.” 

No way Jimmy heard the end of that sentence, already halfway down the staircase. “Castiel wasn’t ready.” Jimmy’s voice fades as he rats Castiel out, like he’s worried their uncle will blame him and not the responsible party, as if it’s  _ not _ always Castiel that perpetually runs an average of ten minutes late at all times. 

It’s most definitely the reason Jimmy’s the impatient one, his life so far spent trying to be on time but never succeeding. He’s the older one and the constantly exasperated one, the  _ responsible _ twin. 

Castiel takes a lot of issue with the twelve minutes that exist between them. Seven hundred and twenty seconds that Jimmy uses as an excuse to tell Castiel what to do at every turn. 

He tucks his book carefully into his messenger bag next to his well worn, well  _ loved _ , notebook and slings the bag over his shoulders, smoothing the strap down. Keys in hand, he locks the old door to their apartment and follows Yankee down the stairs, her little tail wagging so fast it moves in a circle, it’s once curly tail now straight. Castiel doesn’t know if it’s from old age or just too much enthusiasm but he’s still laughing when he weaves his way through stacks of cardboard boxes, the flaps open on some, rows of dusty books just waiting to make it to the shelves, eventually. 

Jimmy and their uncle are waiting for him by the door; Jimmy scowling at his watch and his Uncle Chuck standing in the open doorway to his bookstore and staring out beyond the brick patio that separates the front of the store from the cobblestone road. It’s early in the day but it’s already hot, the unforgiving sun’s rays pouring inside, small flying bugs and dust motes drifting in and out of the golden beams. 

Yankee jumps and yips at Chuck’s legs and it breaks the warm silence. 

“Ready?” Chuck looks back in but still past the twins, but Castiel’s used to that. If he knows anything about their uncle, it’s that he’s a scattered person, distracted, nose always in a book or just, in the clouds as he daydreams. The twins have lived with him since they were six months old and Chuck’s been this way for as long as Castiel’ remembers. 

Jimmy hates it but it doesn’t bother Castiel much at all. He’s never without a book in his possession either and he’s constantly annoying his brother when he isn’t paying attention.

And it’s Sunday, Castiel’s favorite day of the week; the day the bookstore is closed, the day their uncle devotes to them, to showing them the city and the treasures it holds. 

Some days, they visit museums or the financial district, often finding their way to the top of the World Trade Center, or the Empire State building, Jimmy in complete awe of the bustle and rush of day traders and stock brokers, people in too much of a hurry for Castiel’s comfort. 

He prefers the days they follow their uncle around Brooklyn or The Bronx, visiting every random book seller Chuck knows, days lost amongst shelves and in stacks, the smell of old paper and ink wrapping around Castiel, something that’s always been a comfort. Sometimes they meet up with his uncles author friends in coffee shops where they play chess or talk about who’s getting published where.

No matter what they do, they always end the day in the park with the rest of their neighbors, unless the weather isn’t favorable. Twilight in Washington Square Park is an experience Castiel never tires of, the way the light filters through the trees or how the water from the fountain feels splashing against his bare ankles. 

Thinking back on it now, it’s those nights Castiel misses the most, now that he’s an adult. 

Compared to New York’s East Village, the town of Bellingham, Washington is small, quiet, and one of those places where everyone knows their neighbors and the streets are empty by nightfall. It took Castiel a long time to get used to the sound of silence and even now, he needs an ambient noise machine to get to sleep, the one his brother bought him for his twentieth birthday still getting the job done every night. 

Castiel turns it off, the selection on City Sounds, one of Castiel’s favorites and the same track he’s been listening to for the last week. Sometimes the muffled melody of a sleepy city invade Castiel’s dreams and those are the nights he sleeps the best. Last night was one of those nights and he wakes up refreshed and clear minded, the allure of a hot cup of tea enough to get him out of bed. 

He fills his kettle and preps his cup, filling his infuser with his favorite English breakfast tea, a blend he orders from a small tea shop in Seattle that he found when he was at the University of Washington getting his Masters in Library Science. The woman who owns the shop infuses her blend with lavender and its delicious. 

While he waits, Castiel’s attention is drawn back to the book laying face down on the kitchen counter, Michael Crichton’s  _ Jurassic Park _ , one of Castiel’s favorites, right where he left it last night after he ate dinner leaning against the countertop and reading. He left it at one of his favorite parts, when the team sees the dinosaurs for the first time and Castiel’s pulled back into the story while he waits for the water to boil. 

The piercing wail of the kettle pulls Castiel from the Island of Isla Nublar and he finishes preparing his cup, tucking the book under his arm and settling into his couch, the old black cushions a familiar comfort. He pulls the soft blanket he keeps over the back of the couch across his lap and stretches his legs out. It’s his day off from the library and Castiel plans to spend the day reading, writing if the mood hits him. 

If it wasn’t raining, he might head into town, maybe walk down to his favorite bakery for a cup of tea and whatever fresh baked goods they’d have available. Castiel would bring his book, his notebook, and he’d read and enjoy the quiet noise of the cozy space. At home, he’s happy to do it on his couch, the only sound an old ticking alarm clock he’s had since college. 

He loses an hour or two to his book and decides on a quick stretch before settling back down with a fresh cup of tea and his laptop now, opening up a tab to scroll through Facebook for a few moments. Castiel’s only had an account for about a year, something his niece Claire talked him into during one of their frequent phone calls. It was so he could follow her band’s fan page and then a month later, the band broke up or one girl moved away, Castiel can’t quite remember but regardless, during that time, he followed a few people and a few local pages and now, it’s a bit of a habit to check in at least once a day. 

He sips his tea and scrolls. A check in at the Metropolitan Opera House catches his eye, the post from his sister-in-law Amelia including a photo of her in a black evening gown on the arm of his twin brother in a tuxedo. Jimmy loves the opera, but Castiel’s always found it a bit stuffy. The two of them look nice and the photo reminds Castiel that their monthly phone call is tomorrow. 

He keeps scrolling. 

The grocery store is having a “flash flood” sale on umbrellas that Castiel fondly rolls his eyes at and the gym is offering a deal on the first month of membership being free and Castiel glances down at himself, wondering if he needs to join the gym. He walks often enough when the weather is good so he’s most likely all right. 

Castiel continues to scroll. 

A brightly colored poster advertising for the local animal shelter catches Castiel’s eye. It says “Pet Adoption!” in a bold font at the top and two kittens piled on top of a german shepherd puppy look adorable and Castiel slows his hand so he can take a closer look. 

Castiel clicks the link before he thinks too hard about it, or about how sometimes, the measures he takes to avoid the silence around him are less out of necessity to sleep and more out of loneliness. 

He’s directed to the shelter’s website, the adoption page loading first. Castiel sees a lot of animals he likes, even clicking back to a beautiful, grey cat a few times, imagining sharing his space with an animal like that. He’s back on the main page when a black-faced pug loads at the top. Castiel’s immediately taken back to his uncle's bookstore and memories of Yankee, that stupid dog of his. He hasn’t spoken to his Uncle Chuck in some time and guilt twists in his stomach but only for a moment before he pushes it back down. 

Castiel pulls on his boots and grabs his trench coat before he thinks too hard about that too. 

Unfortunately, by the time Castiel gets to the shelter, the sweet faced pug is gone. It’s disappointing, but he stays, wandering through the rows of cages and keeping an eye out for the grey cat he was also considering. 

Castiel considers it fate when the cat is gone too and thinks maybe it’s just not his time to get a pet. It’s a little sad, thinking about going home empty handed. On the drive over, Castiel had gotten used to the idea of having a dog and he’s finding it difficult to push away his disappointment. It does get lonely at times but he doesn’t  _ hate _ living alone, he’s used to it; he likes the quiet and he likes his books and Castiel doesn’t think there’s anything  _ wrong  _ with that. 

A snuffling noise down by the ground pulls Castiel from his rambling thoughts. It’s enough to stop his feet so he can crouch down and inspect where it’s coming from. He kneels on one knee to peer into the cage, only to see a pink, curly tail attached to a squirming, pink behind trying to wiggle under a fluffy blue blanket. Castiel smiles at the little hooves tapping and sliding at the bottom of the cage. 

He leans back on his heel to examine the little white index card attached to the front corner of the cage: 

_ Four Week Old Male Pig _ __   
_ Small Potbelly _ _   
_ __ Unnamed 

“Hello there, Castiel,” a gentle voice from behind him has Castiel straightening and turning towards them. 

“Good afternoon, Hannah.” Castiel greets Hannah Johnson, one owner of the shelter. She and her husband run it together and since it’s only a few doors down from the library, Castiel sees both of them around town as he goes about his days. 

“How do you like our little friend, there? We got him out of a difficult spot a few weeks ago but he’s doing fine now, he’s had all his shots and he’s perfectly healthy.” She leans down to watch the little pig still fighting with his blanket. “Were you looking to adopt today?” 

Castiel follows her gaze, the sight of the little curly tail whipping back and forth his deciding factor. 

It takes less than an hour before Castiel’s completed all the necessary paperwork and he has his new little friend tucked in the curve of one arm and an envelope of completed adoption papers under the other. 

Castiel drives with caution across town, one eye anxiously on his new friend curled amongst a nest of blankets inside a carton Hannah provided them before they left the shelter, the car ride putting him right to sleep. It makes Castiel feel awful when he has to wake him up when they get to PetSmart but the pig just snuggles back into the crook of his arm, his little nose twitching at all the new smells. 

The employee who helps them coos and pets the pig before she points them in the direction of the small dog section. It has the right size harnesses Castiel needs and it’s no one’s business when he lingers by the tiny outfits that hang at the end of the aisle. 

“What do you think of these little clothes, my sweet friend?” Castiel reaches out to rub the corner of the tiny green hoodie hanging there. “What color would you like? Green?” The pig blinks up at him with warm, chocolate eyes. “Okay, how about…” Castiel flips through the choices. “Purple?” He pulls the tiny hoodie out and dangles it in front of the pig, who begins to wiggle in response. 

“Ah ha, I have a fashionista on my hands I see,” Castiel says softly. Together, they pick out a few more items, including a hot pink harness and a clip-in seat for the car to ensure safe riding. 

Later that night, after finding a home for all of the pig’s supplies and dinner for both of them, Castiel settles back onto the couch, his new friend settled next to him in his new purple plaid blanket. He opens his laptop, intent to research further pig care and do some online shopping for more supplies when the still open tab from the shelter catches his attention. 

Castiel clicks over, only to see the first, sweet faced dog that got him up off the couch in the first place. He knows he can blame nostalgia on his decision making but looking at the adorable pink and hairy nose sticking out of the blanket, Castiel doesn’t think he made any bad choices today. 

He strokes the tip of the pigs nose with his pinky finger, making it twitch. “I think I’ll call you Pug.” 

Another hard twitch of his nose and a little snort confirms Pug’s approval of his new name. 

When Castiel’s phone rings the next day during his morning cup of tea, he’s expecting his twin but is very pleasantly surprised to see Claire’s face pop up on his screen instead. He answers the Facetime request without hesitation.

“Hello, Claire,” he greets her, Claire’s smiling face filling Castiel’s phone screen. “How are you today?”

“Uncle, I need your help finding a book. It has a reddish cover, like fire? And the outline of a cowboy or… something…” Claire’s smile fades as she struggles to explain the book. 

Castiel raises a teasing eyebrow at her. 

“Oh sorry—good morning,” she beams at him. “I’m great. How are you?” 

“I’m fine, thank you,” his face melts into a soft smile. Castiel’s used to these calls, he gets about three a week; Claire, half in thought when he answers and always going and going and going. It looks like she might be on the subway. “Anything else about the cover you can remember?” 

It’s a frequent thing, for people not to know the name of a book and only remember the cover, or parts of it. Castiel’s proudest accomplishment was once being able to figure out the book someone was looking for when they could only remember that it had a blue cover when they first walked in. 

He already has an idea of what book Claire might be talking about. 

“Maybe a bird?” she wonders, her brow furrowed as she thinks.

Bingo. “Sounds like the first book in  _ The Dark Tower _ series, Stephen King. It’s called  _ The Gunslinger _ .” He smiles proudly at Claire for just a moment before his attention is pulled to where Pug is snuffling at his feet having followed him into the kitchen. He barely pays attention while Claire happily confirms that that is in fact the correct book she was trying to recall. 

“Where did you go? Uncle Cas?”

“Yes, sorry, I’m here, give me a moment,” Castiel sounds muffled from under the table and he straightens. “My apologies, Claire. You were saying?”

“What the heck is down there? Did I hear a… snort?” When Castiel looks back at the phone, Claire’s brow is still furrowed and she reminds him of Jimmy when  _ he  _ was sixteen. He leans down to scoop up his new pet, already zipped into his new purple hoodie. Claire squeals when she sees the pig wiggling in the crook of Castiel’s arm. “Who is  _ this?”  _ she asks, her voice going up a few octaves. 

“Claire, meet Pug. Pug, this is your cousin, Claire. She lives in New York City. Say hello,” he encourages the pig. Pug sniffs around the edges of the phone and it makes Claire laugh. 

“Hello, Pug, hello little baby,” Claire croons. “When did you get her?” 

“Him,” Castiel corrects. “And yesterday. The shelter was having an adoption fair, so I went.”

Claire’s off the subway now and walking down a shady sidewalk Castiel recognizes as the neighborhood Jimmy and his family live in, on the Upper East Side. 

“That’s  _ awesome _ , now you won’t be sitting there alone with your books.” 

Claire isn't trying to be rude, but Castiel’s persistent bachelorism frustrates her. She's been bothering him for months about some dating application called Tinder but Castiel refuses to admit he  _ did _ download the app and two hours into having it on his phone, Castiel had an inbox with no less than six dick pics and a message asking him if he'd be willing to share photos of his feet. Castiel's never uninstalled an app faster.

Castiel’s dated. In college, he had a long enough relationship that he considered Inias his partner, until Inias broke Castiel’s heart, two years into his post-grad. He's been on dates here and there, the last few years but there hasn't been anyone special or frankly, even all that interesting. 

Claire insists she’d be happy if he just had a  _ friend _ there, but Castiel isn’t unsatisfied with the acquaintances in his life, but he also has no interest in pursuing anything further than that with any of them. Even his brother occasionally asks if he’s seeing anyone but Castiel bets those kinds of questions come at the direction of his sister-in-law. 

Castiel’s grown used to living alone and he wishes everyone could just accept that. 

He rolls his eyes at Claire's statement like he always does, and cups one hand over Pug’s ears. “Don’t listen to her, you’re going to love our books,” he reassures his new friend. “I can take him with me to work, I already checked with my boss,” he tells Claire, making a kissy face at Pug before turning back to Claire who’s grinning wide at him. 

“You two are so cute, I took some screenshots,” Claire tells him, pushing into their building. “Will you send me pictures of him?” 

“Of course, I already have several.” 

Castiel hears a key in the lock and a door opening. Claire’s keys hit the side table in the entryway and Claire moves through the condo to her bedroom. 

“Is that Castiel?” The far off voice of his twin has Castiel peering at his phone’s screen for him. 

“Call him on your own phone,” Claire calls over her shoulder before slamming her bedroom door shut. 

“Claire,” Castiel warns. 

She flops down on her stomach. “Don’t uncle, please. I’ll apologize for slamming the door, but I’m still upset with him.” 

“Have you talked?” 

“No.” Claire rolls her eyes in a very Novak sort of way and shrugs like teenagers do, like nothing bothers them. “He won’t.” 

Stubborn, Jimmy got all the stubbornness. 

“You can wait him out, give him some time.” Castiel sighs, as his phone begins to ring. 

“I’ll speak to him, he’s calling me now.” Castiel clears his throat in an attempt to gain back Claire’s attention away from whatever she’s glaring at off to her left. “Say goodbye to Claire, little sir,” he says, holding Pug up to the phone, one last attempt for Claire to say goodbye. 

It works. Big, blue eyes turn towards him and Castiel smiles gently at her. “Bye, Pug. Bye, Uncle Cas.” 

He lets Claire hang up and calls his twin back after putting Pug on the ground at his feet. Jimmy answers on the first ring. 

“Castiel.”

“Jimmy. How are you? How was the opera?”

“Amelia wasn’t sure if you’d seen it because you hadn’t liked the post.” 

“Hmm?” Castiel tilts his head, distracted by Pug running into the living room. He takes his teacup and follows. “Oh, give her my apologies, I was scrolling.” 

“Well, it was nice. Carmen.”

“Carmen?” 

“The opera we were attending. It was Carmen.” 

Castiel has no idea what or who Carmen is so he hums again noncommittally. 

“How’s work going then?” Jimmy asks, formality met before launching into his own work stories, and then something about his squash club and then the business dinner he attended last week. It’s the same every month, and Castiel sits and listens, just like he does every month, until Jimmy runs out of idle chit chat and falls silent. 

“Well, if that’s all then—” 

“Jimmy, about Claire—” 

“Castiel, please,” the coldness in Jimmy’s voice freezes the words on the tip of Castiel’s tongue. “I can handle Claire.” 

“If you’d only just speak to her—” 

“Good _ night _ , Castiel. We’ll speak again next time.”

The call ends. 

Castiel’s shoulders slump and he sits still for a moment, staring up at the ceiling until his phone vibrates in his hand. 

A text from Claire: Thank you for trying with the orange heart emoji Claire always uses. 

Castiel texts back a blue heart. 

He also receives and accepts a reminder for next month’s call from his twin; his “older” brother, always prompt and still trying to make Castiel prompt as well. 

So saying Castiel’s surprised is an understatement when his phone rings a week later and it’s Jimmy’s name on the caller ID. 

Thinking he might be getting butt dialed, Castiel answers with a tentative hello. 

“Castiel? I’m sorry to be the one to do this but I have some bad news.” 

Jimmy words make Castiel’s stomach drop, panic making his blood run cold. 

“Uncle Chuck has passed away.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“I, Charles ‘Chuck’ Novak, leave my property and estate in all its entirety, including any and all businesses owned by my LLC to my nephews, James and Castiel Novak. This is specific to the building and all its contents at 776 E. 6th Street, New York.” 

Jimmy’s lawyer clears his throat before he continues on about bank accounts and insurance policies and honestly, Castiel stops listening after the droning gets to be too much. The last week has been a whirlwind, one that started after Jimmy’s call and has yet to end and now Castiel’s wearing his nicest suit, sitting on an uncomfortable couch in his brother’s study, and holding tight to Claire’s hand as they listen to his uncle’s last will and testament. 

They spent the rainy morning huddled under umbrellas saying their goodbyes, Chuck’s funeral a small affair. Jimmy had the foresight to put up a sign at the bookstore and Castiel took it upon himself to put an obituary in the Village Voice, the small paper that his uncle loved so much when they were kids but both announcements only drew out a few groups of people willing to come out and brave the rain to pay their last respects. 

Castiel’s hardly had a moment to think. Their uncle is dead. Chuck was the closest thing to a father the twins ever had, taking them in when they were babies and giving them everything they ever needed, even when he himself barely had anything to give. He may have been eccentric in his own ways but he was still good to them and they never went without, thanks to Chuck and it was his love of books and writing that helped make Castiel into the man he is today. 

He isn’t too starry eyed to recognize that his introverted nature most likely came from his uncle as well. 

Claire squeezing his hand draws Castiel back to the moment. He lets go of her and stands while Jimmy scowls, annoyed at Castiel’s lack of attention.

“Are you even listening to me, Castiel? I need you to come over here and sign these papers.” Jimmy holds out a pen. “These are the documents to accept the will as is, which we both need to sign.” He pushes one stack towards Castiel. “And these are the documents that put the building into escrow, my realtor already has two or three interested buyers and as long as the lawyer is here, we can take care of everything—” 

“Wait, what? You want to sell the building? The store?” Castiel can’t believe what he’s hearing. At no time during the last week has Jimmy even mentioned anything about the bookstore, let alone that he has a  _ realtor _ already trying to sell it. “How did you even know we were getting it, Jimmy—why have we never discussed this?” 

They haven’t discussed anything. Castiel had to get to New York and when he arrived, they had a funeral to plan and at no time did Jimmy think to bring this up, despite many opportunities Castiel can think of off the top of his head.

His twin sighs, impatient. “Castiel, regardless of your exodus to Washington, life did continue after you left and when Chuck needed to make his will, he came to me for help. Never did I assume you’d even care about what happens to the building, considering the amount of times you’ve been back or even shown any interest in the future of the business.” 

Castiel furrows his brow but before he can speak, Claire does it for him. 

“That’s not fair, dad, not at all. Don’t act like Uncle Cas is the bad guy here when I bet you can’t even remember the last time you talked to Uncle Chuck, let alone gone over to the store to see him. At least Uncle Cas was in another state, you were twenty minutes away. Don’t be such a martyr.” 

She twirls on her heel and stalks out, slamming the door behind her and Castiel’s actually pretty proud of her exit. He doesn’t bother to hide his pride when he turns back to his brother, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I want to see it.” 

Jimmy throws his hands out in exasperation. “Castiel! There’s no point all right, my realtor said—” 

“Jimmy, I don’t care what your realtor said. I want to see it for myself and you should too.” He takes the paperwork for the will and signs where indicated. “If it’s in that bad of shape, we’ll  _ talk _ about it and decide  _ together. _ ” He pushes both stacks of paperwork back towards Jimmy who’s standing on the other side of the desk, his jaw and fists tight. 

“Unclench, Jim, please,” Castiel pleads, softening his voice. “Can we just go say goodbye to our childhood properly? Come on, we can make a day of it.” 

Jimmy stares at Castiel for a moment, like Castiel’s just asked him for a  _ gigantic _ favor before he nods. “I have a few hours in the morning, we’ll go first thing.” He turns away from Castiel to arrange for his lawyer to meet them at the bookstore around eight the next day. 

So much for making a day out of it. Castiel slips out of the room, only to find Claire slumped against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face. “I’m going with you tomorrow.”

Castiel puts a hand on her shoulder. “Of course.” 

The door to Jimmy’s study opens and Claire pushes herself off the wall. Before Castiel can say anything else, she’s gone and her bedroom door shuts behind her. Jimmy hears the click and looks down the hall before turning back to Castiel and only nodding as he and his lawyer head for the front door, murmuring to one another. 

Castiel’s shoulders slump. The tension between his brother and niece has been thick, taking up any room they share and Castiel hates it. He can’t help but wonder how long it’s been like this. 

The guest room is down the hall and when Castiel passes Claire’s room, a steady thumping bass can be heard from under the door. Castiel sighs and shuts the guest bedroom door behind him, silence falling all around him and it’s probably the quietest it’s been since Castiel landed at JFK early that morning and he relishes it, missing his living room back home and his new pet. 

Castiel pulls his phone from his pocket and shoots off a quick text to Hannah. When the need to fly to New York arose so quickly, Castiel was relieved when she offered to watch Pug for the time he'd need to be here so leaving the pig with Hannah and her husband was an easy decision, considering their history with him. 

Being that it's past midnight in New York, he doesn’t want to call but he's pleased when he gets a text back a moment later reassuring him that all is well with a picture of Pug asleep and tucked under a fuchsia blanket.

Castiel texts it over to Claire and gets a heart eyes emoji in response and a good night message to follow. He plugs his phone in to charge with a small smile on his face, appreciating the distraction from the difficult day.

It takes Castiel a few minutes of staring at the ceiling to decide that it's too quiet. He was expecting the hum of the city, but he supposes being on the thirty-third floor might cause some city sounds to fade away. His brother would pay for the luxury of muffling any other sounds that might reach this height. 

Castiel’s sleep that night is restless. It’s too quiet, the sheets aren’t his and he misses the low snuffling sounds Pug makes in his sleep, noises he hadn’t even realized he was already used to. 

Still dark outside when he wakes (which means it’s entirely too early), Castiel’s thoughts wander as the sky lightens. 

Being back here, it’s a given to think about the past. He did the math in the taxi he took from the airport and shame made him grow warm when he realized it had been at least ten years since he’d been back for a visit and if he was honest with himself, he couldn’t remember the last time he spoke to his uncle, even on the phone, aside from the occasional greeting exchanged if Claire happened to be at the store at the same time she called him. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to go without having a proper conversation for so long. 

Either way, Castiel isn’t looking forward to the guilt the day is sure to bring with it. 

Waiting until his room is full of warm light, Castiel gets out of bed, showers and dresses before heading for the kitchen, only to find Jimmy already waiting for him, leaning over a stack of papers, a mug in one hand. He looks up when Castiel enters.

“Coffee?” Jimmy offers with a nod towards a Keurig on the counter next to the stainless steel sink.

A beat passes between them before Castiel shakes his head to decline,  _ never  _ having preferred coffee over tea, one of those things he feels a twin should know. 

Jimmy just shrugs and tips back the rest of the cup he’s holding. “I’d like to get going, if you’re ready.” Before Castiel can reply, they’re interrupted. 

“I’m ready.” 

Jimmy looks past him and Castiel turns to see Claire standing in the doorway, her backpack slung over her shoulder, her jaw set as if she’s waiting for her father to protest, which, right on cue, he does. 

“Claire, this isn’t appropriate—” 

“Dad, I’m almost seventeen years old, I can handle it.” She pushes past him to stick a travel mug under the Keurig’s spout and she pushes a button to start the coffee maker. After, she rummages around in the cabinet for a minute and she’s triumphant when she emerges, a box of English Breakfast tea in her hands which she proudly presents to Castiel. 

Claire heats some water in the microwave and prepares another mug for him to take along and the whole time she moves around the kitchen, Castiel can’t help but be touched by her kindness. 

Jimmy watches the two of them, his face schooled into a neutral expression. He certainly looks like he wants to protest more, but when his eyes flick over to see Castiel watching him, he turns away to gather his briefcase, stuffing the papers inside and snapping it shut with a bit too much force. 

He turns back, stiff and formal. “I’ll be waiting downstairs, the car should be here any moment. Please don’t make me wait, I have meetings I can’t be late for this afternoon.” 

Claire rolls her eyes at his retreating back and pours the hot water into the cup. “How are you guys even related?” 

Castiel sighs and accepts the travel mug that Claire hands over. “Let’s cut your dad some slack today, okay? This isn’t going to be easy for any of us and we need to try—” 

The way Claire’s looking at Castiel makes him stop talking halfway through his sentence, her face full of pity, like Castiel’s missing something here. “What?”

“This is a business transaction to him, Uncle, that’s it.” 

Castiel can’t believe that. His twin is a lot of things, but family is still family and they’re still going back to a place where they were kids together, a place they  _ grew up  _ together. It  _ means _ something to Castiel and he can only reason that it must mean something to his brother as well. 

“Where’s your mom?” Castiel’s looking for anything else to talk about as they head down the elevator. His sister-in-law Amelia is the safest topic, or at least Castiel thought she was until Claire rolls her eyes again and shrugs in response. 

“It’s Sunday so I dunno, yoga? Pilates? Whatever fitness craze has hit the Upper East Side this week,” Claire exaggerates where she lives like it’s some kind of insult and Castiel wonders when things in his brother’s house had gotten so bad. Claire complains to him on their calls, but don’t all teenagers complain? Overstate their problems and make their parents out to be the bad guys? Castiel always listens with patience and Claire usually runs out of steam and moves on, but maybe Castiel wasn’t listening hard enough during her occasional rants about her parents. 

He hardly has time to comment before they’re downstairs and being whisked into a waiting town car, Claire jumping in the front seat with her headphones on, leaving Castiel to share the backseat with his twin. 

It takes them forty minutes to get four miles, Midtown traffic a nightmare. The only thing to be heard is Jimmy sighing impatiently the whole ride there. Castiel does his best to ignore it, but he makes his own sound of surprise when the driver takes them right past Washington Square Park, the fountain beyond the Washington Square Arch shooting water high into the sky. People are scattered around, sitting on the edge of the fountain and the surrounding benches. The entire neighborhood takes Castiel back to a simpler time, of days spent sitting in the fountain and playing in the park with his brother. 

Castiel glances at him now, only to look away when all Jimmy’s doing is typing on his phone, the potential moment lost on him. It takes a few more minutes before they’re pulling up to 776 6th Street, the bookstore shuttered, the windows above dark and covered. The building looks sad, empty, quiet in a way that implies it’s been this way for some time, even longer than the week it’s been since their uncle passed away. 

“Castiel.” The sharpness in Jimmy’s voice tears Castiel’s eyes off the building and makes his hand finally move to open the door and step out of the car to join his waiting family. 

Jimmy has the keys, so he takes the lead and starts picking his way across the dirty brick patio that hasn’t been swept in ages, a lone folding chair propped up next to the front door. If anyone tried sitting in it, it would probably collapse and give the brave soul tetanus in the process. Two weeks worth of the Village Voice are piled by the door.

Castiel drags his feet through a once played in space, somewhere Castiel would sit with his uncle and talk about books and made up, far-off places. To him, it always seemed like his uncle had read every book there was and it fascinated Castiel and made him into the avid reader he still is today. It was the setting of the first story he wrote when he was six about a magical patio and the young boy who used it to go wherever he wanted, places like Texas or Chicago, places he only read about in books. 

It was definitely no longer magical. 

It’s even more disconcerting when he follows Jimmy and Claire into the musty bookstore and Jimmy’s already groaning; rows and rows of dirty, untouched boxes take up most of the space that isn’t filled with shelves. Claire moves amongst the boxes to flip on the lights, the flashlight on her cellphone helping her see, it’s beam of light cutting through flurries of dust.

The overhead lights don’t help. At all. Castiel could actually consider them a hindrance because what they illuminate is not what Castiel was expecting in the slightest. 

It’s definitely not a bookstore anymore. He can’t imagine how the hell Chuck was selling out of here when Castiel can’t even see the counter, row after row after row of packed boxes, years of inventory just waiting to be sold or even unwrapped taking up all the space. 

“I haven’t been inside for a long time,” Claire says, her voice shaking in the cramped space. “I had no idea dad, I—” She looks at Castiel helplessly. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

Jimmy turns sharply and Castiel steps towards her, shaking his head. “No, Claire, this isn’t your fault, it was never your responsibility.” 

“This is why I wanted you to stay home, Claire. This is why I told  _ you _ , Castiel, that we should just put this—this—dump on the market while it still has actual interested buyers,” Jimmy looks back and forth between the two of them and Castiel steps closer to Claire, angling his body in front of hers. 

“Would you give it a rest Jimmy? Please?” He gives his brother a proper glare before softening and turning back to his niece. “Don’t talk like that again, okay, no one thinks any of this is your fault.” He throws Jimmy a bonus glare, in case he isn’t being clear in his tone before turning back to Claire. “Do you want me to lead us upstairs?”

“Yes, please,” Claire replies, the tremor in her voice betraying her earlier bravado and giving away her youth. 

“Jimmy? Are you coming?” 

Jimmy returns Castiel’s glare full force. “I need to make a phone call,” he replies flatly. 

“Fine.” Castiel turns away with a sigh. He has to shove a few boxes aside to make a path for them but he gets to the old staircase eventually, feeling around on the wall for the light switch and finding it lower than he remembered. Or maybe Castiel’s just gotten taller. 

It’s confirmed when the ceiling is a lot lower too as they make their way upstairs, the staircase creaking, the old red paint peeling and cracking. The door to the apartment hangs open, the room beyond is dim. Castiel takes a deep breath before he reaches in to turn the light on and face the inside of the apartment. 

It’s—bad. Bad enough that as he takes in the clutter and the boxes and the thick layers of dust on  _ everything _ , Castiel considers for the first time that Jimmy might have been right. Until he sees what used to be the living room and it’s fairly obvious that this was as far as his uncle used to get. 

The couch was clearly being used as a bed and stacks of books surround it, magazines and newspapers on every surface. There are paths in all directions; one going towards the kitchen, another in the direction of the two bedrooms and the bath. Stuff isn’t stacked  _ all _ the way to the ceiling, but damn, it’s closer than Castiel even feels remotely comfortable with. 

Claire sneezes and it makes Castiel jump. 

“Bless you,” he says automatically. 

“Thanks—sorry,” Claire sniffles. “This is bad, huh?”

“It’s not great, no.” He sighs and lets his gaze drift around a room he once spent hours reading in, those memories quickly being replaced with all of this. 

A clearing throat from the doorway behind him makes Castiel stiffen. “Are you ready to sign those papers  _ now _ , Castiel? My lawyer is downstairs.” 

Oh, the gall of his brother. As if all this wasn’t bad enough, as if he and Jimmy weren’t one hundred percent responsible for this, for the state of the store and more importantly, whatever their uncle’s life had turned into in the last few years. Castiel’s stomach turns and he swallows down the bile that teases at the back of his throat. 

“We’re not selling,” Castiel replies, his voice almost a whisper. 

“Claire, go wait for us outside, I don’t want you breathing in all this dust, God knows what’s floating around in here—” 

“We’re not selling,” Castiel states, louder now, his brother’s nagging raising his hackles. “I’m not signing anything else.” He turns to find Jimmy and Claire both staring at him but with completely different intent behind their otherwise matching blue eyes. Claire looks like she wants to cheer and Jimmy—well Jimmy looks like he’s willing to step all the way inside just so he can reach Castiel and choke him. 

“Claire. Out. Now.” Jimmy’s tone leaves no room for argument and Castiel can’t even disagree that Claire shouldn’t be here for this. He hopes they don’t have to come to blows but—it just wouldn’t be the first time. 

When Claire leaves the room, Jimmy opens the floodgates. 

Her footsteps stop, halfway down the stairs.

“You  _ will  _ sign, Castiel. You will because I do  _ not _ have time for this in my life right now. I will not be the one to—to—to what, Cas? Quit my job and run a bookstore? I don’t even like reading!” Jimmy’s found a small corner of the room to pace in. It’s unnerving to watch. “You will sign these damn papers because you will  _ not _ leave me here again and expect me to just take care of everything!” 

“I’ve seen what happens when I do  _ that _ so I won’t be making the same mistake again,” Castiel snaps at his twin. “How could you let it get this bad, why did you stop coming to check on him? And sending Claire? What were you thinking?”

“I never sent Claire, she came on her own!” Jimmy’s the first to start the shouting. “Every time I came here, it was just—depressing and you know what, it was just easier not to come. Is that what you want to hear? You can relate to that, can’t you Castiel?” 

Castiel’s already made up his mind, but Jimmy’s shitty attitude solidifies his entire decision. He faces his twin and squares his shoulders, completely done with this discussion. 

“I’m moving back. I’ll take full responsibility for all of it; the building, the business, cleaning it up—hell Jimmy, I’ll even make it profitable somehow. Because it’s the very least I can do, considering everything our uncle did for us.” He clenches his jaw and takes a few deep breaths until he feels like he finally has a handle on the anger and shame fighting it out in his ribcage. And hell if he’s going to take Jimmy’s bait and fight back.

Jimmy narrows his eyes and Castiel stares back, his jaw set. 

“You want this place, little brother?” With a flick of his wrist, Jimmy flings the keys to the building at Castiel. He catches them on instinct. “It’s yours. I don’t want anything to do with it.” Jimmy glances around one last time, disgust on his face, until his eyes stop on Castiel. “I don’t want anything to do with any of it.” 

Jimmy stalks out of the room and Castiel isn’t upset to see him go. Jimmy and Claire exchange words muffled to Castiel, but he’s sure it’s about Claire staying or going. The mystery doesn’t last long because Claire pops her head inside a few moments later. 

“Can we go get some food? I know a good ramen place nearby and we could use some fresh air.” 

The fight drains out of Castiel and he nods, sighs, and follows Claire down and through the store, careful not to disturb more dust than necessary as they go. It takes a few tries, but he eventually gets the door locked, the first thing on his to-do list being brand new locks. 

The second is buying a broom and sweeping out this patio. 

At least the weather’s nice as they step out onto the sidewalk. The trees have gotten bigger and they cover the street more than Castiel remembers them doing and it’s nice, the leafy branches blocking the direct sunlight and making their walk pleasant, despite the rain cloud Castiel feels hanging over him. 

Castiel’s comforted by Claire looping her arm through his as they walk. He hates fighting with his twin, they’re incredibly bad at it, once not talking for six months over a disagreement Castiel can’t even remember. It was Claire’s tenth birthday that got them talking again. Ever since she was born, she’s been a bridge between the twins that Castiel is just now realizing they’ve both been taking advantage of. 

He squeezes her arm as they walk through Washington Square Park and Castiel’s reminded why it’s his favorite place in the whole city. They walk down the wide path surrounded by people, some sitting on benches, others on blankets in the grass. There’s a small group of kids playing soccer and a dad and his son tossing a ball back and forth while a street performer sings show tunes loudly and off-key but he looks like he’s enjoying himself and so are others, if all the loose change and dollar bills in the empty guitar case he’s standing behind is any indication. 

“On your left,” a voice calls out behind them, prompting Castiel to step closer to Claire and press them towards the right, just in time too because a bike goes whizzing by them, it’s pink-haired rider raising a leather glove covered hand in acknowledgement. The fingertips of the glove are cut off and the rider wiggles them as they pass. They weave through the park with ease despite the square canvases strapped to their back as they jump their bike up on the edge of the fountain, landing on the other side and disappearing amongst the crowd beyond. It looks like a farmers market has cropped up there and Castiel wishes they had time to wander around rather than do what he’s tasked with today.

Instead, he lets Claire pull him over to the fountain to sit in a spot previously occupied by an elderly woman who was feeding the birds. Pigeons peck the ground at their feet, still expecting a handout. Castiel looks forward to the day he can bring Pug here so they can explore the park together. 

“Are you really going to move here? Or were you just saying that to mess with my dad?” The skeptical look on Claire’s face is bothersome, his niece used to hearing one thing and getting another from her father too often. It renews Castiel’s faith that he’s making the right choice.

“I wasn’t just saying that,” he replies and Claire’s shoulders relax, her relief clear. “I promise. I can’t say I know what I’m doing but—” he peers up, squinting his eyes against the sun. “Me and Pug can figure it out.” Castiel leans over to knock their shoulders together. “And you, if you’re amenable.”

Claire sits up straighter, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “We can start making a list at lunch!” She stands and tugs Castiel up by his hands, lacing their fingers together while leading them towards the restaurant; Castiel can see it from the fountain. Claire goes on and on about meeting Pug and helping at the store and it’s this that Castiel decides he’s most looking forward to, moments like this with Claire, time spent together in the city, echoes of a childhood Castiel cherished. 


	3. Chapter 3

_ Uncle Cas Moves Home _

_— Rent dumpster_   
_— Hire moving crew for inventory - storage until further reflection on business _   
_— Hire cleaning/renovation company _

“Add ‘buy broom and WD-40 on the way home’ to the list, please,” Castiel requests, after a sip of green tea washes down the spoonful of Ramen he just ate. 

Claire grins and scribbles it down. “Something easy to check off today,” she muses and Castiel agrees, looking forward to the small victory of crossing something off their list already. Castiel’s been bookmarking businesses on Yelp while they discuss their list and eat their lunch. 

Together they visit the hardware store on the next block and buy the items on the list, Claire throwing in a box of trash bags too. The reusable shopping bag with all their stuff swings from Castiel’s arm and Claire is using the broom as a sword as they walk back to the store and it’s the best afternoon Castiel’s had in a long time, despite the rough start of the morning. 

Claire happily takes care of the patio while Castiel heads upstairs first, the store feeling a bit too overwhelming to start in. Stepping back into the house makes Castiel realize that _ this _ isn’t going to be easy either. 

He sighs and digs in. 

Upon closer inspection, Castiel keeps happening upon items that were taken care of, certain books or carefully tied newspapers, tucked between pages and in the spaces between the rows of the shelves. He makes sure to use as much care with those items, boxing them as he goes, trying to preserve what little precious items Chuck had left. Working room by room, glimpses of his childhood make him pause and the weight of the situation is heavy on his shoulders.

By the time he reaches the bedroom he shared with Jimmy, Castiel’s exhausted, aching, and wanting nothing more than a shower and a hot cup of tea. When they moved out before college—Jimmy to Cornell and Castiel to Washington State—they both packed up their belongings on their respective sides of the room, the boxes right where Castiel remembers leaving them. Each one is labeled with the initials of the twin it belongs to, and a short list of contents, per Jimmy’s very specific instructions. Castiel remembers because it was the last, _ stupid _ argument they had here, Castiel finally giving in just so he could escape.

Not one of their finest twin moments. 

This room is clean, the cleanest by far and it’s nice to think maybe Chuck took care of it for them, even if they’d both clearly left him behind for their own lives. Another sign, Castiel supposes. The universe has sent enough.

Castiel stays for three more days before he heads back to Washington. In that time, he hires a moving company to box his belongings, leaving explicit instructions on what not to pack, things he and Pug will need in the interim. Castiel will stay long enough to hire his replacement at the library and put his home up for sale, transfer accounts to his new bank in New York and schedule all the renovations to be completed on the apartment as soon as possible. 

Oh, and sell the car he won’t need in the city.

All of it takes about three weeks. To Castiel, it feels like three days with the way everything moves so fast. He’s Facetiming with Claire daily, before and after school and he’s so busy with everything, he allows Claire to speak on his behalf to Jimmy and vice versa, something Castiel is usually loathe to do. It’s just—easier for now. 

When their flight lands in New York, Castiel pulls the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulders and grabs the handle of Pug’s pink carrier, his sweet snuffles coming from inside as they exit through the terminal. “We made it, my friend, your first look at city life,” Castiel murmurs to him. 

Castiel’s excited for the evening ahead. He orders a Lyft to take him to his old but new again home, the movers having completed their work the day before and confirmed by a video tour via Facetime with Claire late last night. She’d stayed over and was already waiting for him to arrive.

She's there on the patio when his driver pulls up to the front of the store and she springs to her feet when she realizes it’s Castiel inside. Except Claire’s going to the other side of the car and opening the door to pull Pug’s carrier out first, slamming the door before Castiel can even get a word of greeting in. 

He thanks his driver who’s smiling in the rearview and exits the car, following a bouncing Claire into the building. Her long blonde hair whips behind her as she rushes up the back stairs and Castiel takes a few moments to take in the bookstore. It smells like fresh paint and cedar, the wood him and Claire chose for the siding and new built-in shelves, still under construction. 

Castiel drained a nice chunk of his savings having the work rushed; the inventory stored and the space emptied and gutted, completely redone both upstairs and down. 

It’s open, clean, and bright, a complete opposite of the last time Castiel saw it and he takes a minute to swallow down the lump growing in his throat. His uncle’s bookstore was always dark unless it was dusk and then the space turned gold, the light shining into the windows just right and Castiel can’t wait to see it again, now that the windows are clean and the natural light can spill in. It’s a beautiful space and he has to force himself upstairs before he gets lost in thought imaging the future of the store. 

The creaky stairs have been fixed and re-painted a gorgeous brick red and Castiel imagines art hanging along the wall, maybe something from a local artist to cover the blank walls. The front door to the apartment has been refinished and Castiel pushes it open—and gasps. 

It's habitable again. The original, hardwood floors have been resurfaced and gleam under the new furniture Castiel and Claire picked out before he left New York. He left most of his old furniture in Washington, sold with the house to a nice couple, two women from Tacoma who were looking for a fresh start in a smaller town. One of them even took his job at the library. 

He bought all new bookcases to line the walls, but Castiel’s happy to see that his old couch fits right in with the new aesthetic. It’s one of the only pieces of his old furniture that made the trip with him. Big, leafy, green plants are tucked into the corners and empty spaces and Castiel’s impressed that some of his photos and his antique typewriter are already unpacked and on the shelves. 

He looks over to see Claire on her knees and playing with Pug in the splash of sunlight that hits right in front of Castiel’s couch, Pug’s light yellow teepee bed already tucked in one corner, a perfectly shared space Castiel can’t wait to use. And he’s so looking forward to seeing Claire in that future with them. 

“Claire, you started to unpack? You didn’t have to do that,” he chides fondly. “Can I order us a pizza to say thank you?” 

She grins over her shoulder and nods at him. “I started on the books last night, but you have so many. I think I can finish tonight though.” Claire flops over to her side and laughs when Pug tucks himself under her arm, his curly tail flipping. “Unless I can’t stop playing with this little love bug. Are you my little love bug? Yes you are,” she coos sweetly at Pug who _ eats _ it up. He’ll be so spoiled if this continues. “I love his teepee so much, do you think I could get one for my room?” 

Castiel laughs. “Most likely, yes. Pug is very trendy, we follow all the famous Instagram pigs, don’t we?” Instagram is another app Claire made him get at one point or another. 

“Pig fashion, I’m in,” Claire announces before she stands up and joins him. “Can we get mushrooms on our pizza?” 

Castiel’s stomach growls as he drops his bag on the new kitchen counter that extends from the wall, doubling as a breakfast bar and helping to create a small space. The kitchen is more dark wood and new appliances and a few boxes to unpack are stacked by the sink. He digs his phone out of his pocket to find the closest delivery place as Claire rips the tape off the top box. 

Both of them freeze when a throat clears from the doorway. “Claire. Castiel.” 

Jimmy. 

They turn to see him standing in the doorway, looking vaguely impressed at the changes. Jimmy’s never been one to give his enthusiasm for anything away so easily. “The place looks better,” he muses. “I didn’t think it was possible, the way it—” 

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Claire’s hands are on her hips and she flicks her hair off her forehead. “You said you had meetings all day.” 

Jimmy’s certainly dressed for the office, his three piece suit sharp and meant to enhance his confidence in front of board rooms, selling ad space to men who pay his company a lot of money for their services. His career has made Jimmy a rich man, even by New York’s high standards and seeing him here, in this place—it’s clear he’s uncomfortable; he wears it in the rigidness of his shoulders and the way his eyes drift around but don’t really see anything. 

“I’m on my way to my last one,” he says, hesitating just a second more before entering the apartment. Pug has finally noticed the newcomer and he hustles over to Jimmy, adorable in the sweater Claire changed him into, this one dark blue with pink stars stitched all over it. The purple hoodie he traveled in is hanging on the tiny coat rack Castiel found online and Claire set up in Pug’s corner of the room. 

Jimmy does a double take at the tiny, pink pig snuffling at his feet and wagging its tail. “A pig? You have a pig?” He quickly steps away, like Pug is capable of what, Castiel has no idea. Getting hair on his suit, probably. 

Castiel frowns and scoops Pug off the floor, still wiggling and now more interested in sniffing Castiel’s neck with his wet nose. “Yes, this is Pug.” He turns his friend away from his scowling brother who’s brushing invisible hair off his sleeves.

“Can’t just get a dog like a normal person, Castiel?” 

Pug squeaks at Jimmy’s annoyed tone and begins to nibble at Castiel’s sweater. Pulling it free and shushing him with a kiss to the top of his sweet head, Castiel passes Pug over to Claire, only for the piglet to bury himself into the long hair cascading over her shoulders. She’s frowning at her dad and Castiel’s suddenly exhausted by the swift change in all their moods. He turns back to his twin with a sigh.

“Did you just come here to fight?” 

Jimmy balks at Castiel’s bluntness and shakes his head. “No, no, that’s not why I came,” he clears his throat and holds up his briefcase, motioning toward the counter. 

Castiel nods, prompting Jimmy to open his case and pull out a stack of paperwork. Castiel clenches his jaw, irritation starting to make his skin itch. He’s sick and tired of his brother and his contracts and documents. 

“This is a document that gives you sole ownership of this building and my half of the business.” Jimmy pulls a pen from inside his suit pocket, clicks it and hands it to Castiel. “I was serious, Castiel.”

“You don’t want anything to do with this,” Castiel states, already reaching for the stack of papers and its collection of small, yellow tabs to mark all the pages Castiel has to sign. “With me.” 

“I never said that,” Jimmy fumes, his words clipped. “And it isn’t what I meant and you know it. Can you just save the dramatics and sign?” 

Castiel narrows his eyes at his brother. “You knew what your words implied, and the next time I talk to you, you have these. Tell me what I’m supposed to infer from the way you’ve been acting?” He pulls the stack of papers to him and starts at the first tab, scribbling his name wherever the little arrows point. “I’m happy to buy you out of your half you know, once I get the business back up and running.”

Jimmy laughs under his breath. “Yes, I’ll wait patiently for that.” 

“You know what—” 

“Sorry, Castiel, I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” Jimmy is really trying not to crack a smile and if Castiel wasn’t so annoyed by him, he might laugh too. Maybe. 

Claire’s been watching the two of them go back and forth and she just shakes her head and pushes past them. “Twins are so weird.”

“Do you always work on Sunday’s?” Castiel chides his brother, doing what he always does to sidestep an argument with him while he watches Claire take Pug to the couch. He just doesn’t have the energy and it’s his first night back, they shouldn’t be fighting. “You need a day off.”

“You sound like Amelia, she’s trying to drag me to Paris.” 

“Oh, that sounds terrible.”

“You know I hate Paris in the spring, Castiel. Too many tourists.”

Castiel stares at his brother. “I wasn’t commiserating with you.” He pushes the stack of now signed paperwork back towards him. 

“Oh. Yes, well, Claire has school so we wouldn’t be traveling until the summer, anyway.” Jimmy takes the contract and places it back inside his briefcase before he clears his throat. “Speaking of which, Claire, it’s time to get home, you have school tomorrow.” 

“I’ll take the last train,” she replies over her shoulder. 

“No, I’d like for you to—” 

“Jimmy, it’s fine,” Castiel interjects. “I’ll make sure it’s not the last train and I’ll walk her to the subway. Do you have time to stay for pizza?” 

“No and Claire, no. Your mother wants you home because you stayed last night—alone, I might add. Now, please get your things together, we’re going.” His tone leaves little room for argument and Claire seems to know it, the temporary break in formality gone. 

Castiel says nothing as he brushes by Jimmy to pick Pug off the couch. He holds him out for Claire to give one last kiss to, hopefully to appease her pout. “Come on, you’ve done so much for me—for us, go home and take a break before your school week.” 

Claire wants to protest but instead, she throws herself at Castiel, arms around his waist to hug him tight. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and hugs her back. “Thank you, Pug says thank you,” he murmurs into her hair before he lets her go. 

“I’ll be back after school, okay?” She leans over. “Okay, Pug? I’ll see you tomorrow.” Claire kisses Pug on his cute nose and Castiel glances at his brother, faintly amused at the back and forth Jimmy’s going through right now, not sure what about this whole situation to comment on. 

Castiel’s grateful when Jimmy decides to stay quiet, mostly. 

“Claire, please go downstairs, the car is waiting for us.” 

Claire’s refusing to look at Jimmy and Castiel doesn’t envy their ride home. She leaves with one last look at Castiel and Pug before she’s heading down the stairs.

“All the way this time, Claire, no eavesdropping.” 

Castiel chuckles into the scruff of Pug’s neck before he puts him into the little pen Claire set up, the pig running for the big fluffy pillow he likes to sleep on. Castiel watches Pug burrow into his blankets for a moment before he turns to his twin and spreads his arms. “Well? Let’s hear it.”

Jimmy’s eyes almost roll out of his head and he purses his lips. “Why do you always think I’m out to get you, Castiel?” 

“I don’t,” he sighs. “It would just be nice to spend some time with you when someone hasn’t died and you’re not shoving contracts in my face. I’m home, Jim.”

“And you have a pig. What’s that about?”

“He’s the sweetest being on this entire planet and your nephew, so be kind.” 

Jimmy shakes his head slowly as he picks his briefcase back up, turning to leave. “Please don’t refer to livestock as my nephew.” 

Castiel gasps dramatically. “Don’t call my son that!” He follows behind Jimmy as he goes down the stairs. 

Jimmy’s shoulders shake with silent laughter and Castiel smiles; they haven’t really bantered at all lately. He can’t remember the last time, actually.

Too bad it doesn’t last. 

Jimmy stops before they get all the way out of the bookstore, the space dark now that the sun’s set. Yellow light spills in from the porch and a sleek, black town car idles at the curb. 

“Castiel, now that you’re here, I’d like your—cooperation, for lack of a better word,” Jimmy clears his throat. “With Claire. She still isn’t speaking to me for the most part, unless it’s about your move and I assumed that once you’d arrived, this would resolve itself, now that visiting you in Washington is null.” 

Ah, the great big fight between Jimmy and Claire. She’d requested to spend the summer with Castiel in Washington and while he was fine with it, Jimmy had refused. He told Castiel it was because she had summer school but Claire had confided in him that the truth was, Jimmy didn’t _ want _ her to go because he thought it was a waste of time and not “beneficial to her bright future,” whatever that means. 

Claire wants to be a writer. 

Jimmy believes she should aim… higher. 

It’s just about the most insulting thing Castiel’s ever heard, considering his career choices. He earned his degree in library sciences intending to run library and write on the side. Library work was easy to find within the college network and when offered the job to run the library in Bellingham, Castiel thought the town the perfect place to live and settle down and finally finish his novel.

It took him two years to finish but after a few years of not being able to get it published, Castiel put the idea away for good and that’s in no way indicative of how Claire’s career aspirations will turn out. 

When Claire told him about her dad’s reaction, it took everything in Castiel’s power not to get on a plane and confront his brother but, with respect to Claire and her confidence in his discretion, he sat on it, he let it fester, and even thinking about having this conversation was the least attractive thing about moving back to New York. 

It figures they’re having it on his first night back. 

“It hasn’t,” Jimmy continues. “She’s spent the last two weeks here, doing God knows what and I overheard her telling Amelia her plans to spend all her free time here, maybe even _ work _here and I’d prefer if she spent her time focusing on her education. Academics was important to both of us, so I trust that you’ll support me in this.” 

“You want me to tell Claire she can’t be here? I won’t do that, you can’t ask me to do that, I’m her uncle.” 

“And I’m her father—” 

“Jimmy, I’m not trying to—” Castiel clenches his jaw. This isn’t the argument they should be having. “What I’m trying to say is, as her uncle, I can’t tell her she isn’t welcome because I will _ not _ lie to her. Ever. She will _ always _ be welcome in my home. Claire is a wonderful young woman, Jimmy, you’ve raised someone to be _ proud _ of, I wish you could see that.” 

“I _ am _ proud of her, which is why this is so important to me—to us,” he retorts. “I’m not saying tell her she isn’t allowed, I’m just asking that you not encourage her to spend all her time here.”

This is ludicrous. 

Castiel rubs his forehead. “Again, I won’t tell her any such thing. I am one hundred percent invested in her education and her success, believe me. Look, how about this? If she comes over, homework needs to be done first before anything else. And I’m a scholar, I can help her.” 

“You’re a librarian.” 

“Same thing, Jim.” Castiel gives him a gentle smile, repeating the mantra that he doesn’t want to fight with his brother over and over in his head. He practices a skilled art of sidestepping the bigger problem, something he’s done with Jimmy their whole lives, always to avoid a bigger argument. “Can we see how things play out before we start making assumptions about Claire’s time here? The shine will wear off, Jimmy.”

It won’t and Castiel knows it—it never did for him—but to Jimmy, the charm of living above a bookstore, of being surrounded by literature, even just _ reading _ in general, those things never meant the same to him as they did to Castiel. And now, Jimmy can’t understand why that could be appealing to his daughter. 

Jimmy stares at Castiel for a beat before he glances at his watch. “I’m late. Amelia doesn’t want you to be a stranger, but you can’t bring that animal with you.” 

“You’re the rude twin.” 

Jimmy scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Goodnight, Castiel. We’ll speak soon.”

Castiel follows Jimmy outside. “You remember my number?” 

“You’re the smartass twin,” Jimmy throws back as he climbs into the car. 

Castiel waves goodbye to Claire who’s glaring at both of them through the window. The town car pulls away from the curb and Castiel watches until the tail lights turn the corner, and then he’s alone. He doesn’t rush inside, instead taking a few moments to stand still and enjoy the sound of the city and the cool breeze that whips down the street and through the tall trees. Their rustling leaves add to the ambient noise and it reminds Castiel of nights spent out here, a blanket tucked over his legs and his mind lost and wandering through the pages of whatever book he was reading. 

A shock of bright, pink hair catches Castiel’s attention out of the corner of his eye and he watches a man approach on his bike, stopping one building short of Castiel’s. It’s possible it’s a different person with pink hair than the bicyclist they saw before; Castiel can’t know. The Village has changed, it’s changed greatly since Castiel was a young boy here and the idea of more than one person around here with pink hair isn’t as far-fetched these days. 

Castiel stares at the pink spikes for a moment more before he notices the man’s striking profile, a wide grin on his face as he carries two overfilled canvas bags full of groceries, one in the crook of each arm, into his neighbors front door. 

The sign above the door reads Apothecary in dark script and the man pushes inside and a small bell jingles to announce his arrival, the door clicking shut after him.

Castiel’s alone again. 

He considers his brothers request. It’s unfair of Jimmy to ask that of him, to make Castiel into the villain that refuses his niece’s request to spend time together. They’ve never had the chance, the majority of their relationship literally spent over the phone, and spending time with Claire is one of the things Castiel’s most been looking forward to about all of this. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a commotion next door, the man laughing as he exits, a booming, joyful laugh that makes something in Castiel’s stomach flutter as his gaze is drawn towards the sound. 

A woman with bright red, curly hair wearing a long, blood red dress follows behind him. “Aye, come see me in a day or two, I’m preparing a delivery,” she says, the lilt of her Scottish accent music to Castiel’s ears.

“You got it, Ro,” the man calls over his shoulder, his voice deep but warm, comforting, like a cup of tea after a rainstorm. “I’ll be back!” 

Castiel can’t tear his eyes away.

His hair is Cheshire pink and his smile curls like the crafty cat when he notices Castiel watching him and he bounces his eyebrows before he’s back on his bike. He’s halfway down the street, before Castiel can shake himself from the spell the man cast. 

“Why, hello there.” 

His neighbor’s greeting gets Castiel’s focus back and he turns towards her and steps forward to shake her hand over the low row of bushes that separate their patios. “Good evening,” Castiel responds, accepting her small hand as she reaches back. 

“Are you my new neighbor?” 

“I am,” he confirms, shaking her hand. “Castiel Novak.” 

“So you’re the one responsible for the noise that’s been interrupting my beauty sleep. I’m over three hundred years old, it’s no longer optional,” she raises an eyebrow at him but she smiles and Castiel thinks he either heard wrong or he heard _ right _ and—no, that’s not possible. 

Castiel tilts his head. “My apologies, the renovations I had rushed are complete so—no more noise at night.” 

“Don’t worry dear, I simply whipped up one of my special teas and poof, no more worries.” She glances around. “And where’s your wee lass?”

“My what?” 

“Your _ daughter _ . With the lovely blonde hair I’ve seen coming and going from here since we lost our dear Charles. Never did think you’d up and _ move in _ after he died, but miracles _ do _ happen, I suppose. Charles would be pleased, anyway.” 

She thinks he’s Jimmy. 

Castiel shakes his head. “Claire’s my niece, you’re thinking of my brother, Jimmy—her father.” 

“Brothers?”

“Twins,” Castiel corrects her and it’s like a lightbulb goes off as the pieces fall into place. 

“Aye, that’s a relief. Your brother is a bit stuffy, all the times he’s come around.” She looks him up and down, appraising, and her gaze drifts above his head as if she’s looking at something hovering above him. Castiel rolls his eyes up, almost expecting to see something floating there.

His new neighbor chuckles. “It’s all right lad, don’t hurt yourself, you just have a very familiar aura. Colorful. Warm.” She seems thoughtful. 

Castiel clears his throat, not sure what she’s really talking about but finding her interesting, nonetheless. “Chuck was my uncle,” he explains, as if the familial connection will help. 

“No, no your uncle had a very specific way about him.” Her eyes brighten. “No, I think I’ve seen you in my cards.” Her pleased smile almost makes Castiel forget how little her words make sense. He finds himself looking forward to interacting with her again. 

“Well, I think I’ll get upstairs, it was lovely to meet you…” he trails off, realizing she never gave him her name. 

“Rowena, Rowena MacLeod, so nice to make your acquaintance.” She floats back to her front door, waving a small hand, her long dress swishing behind her. “Good evening, Castiel.” 

“Good night, Rowena,” he says back to her closing door, the lock clicking faintly into place. The light inside goes out a moment later and Castiel takes that as his cue to go in himself. 

When he’s laying in bed later, staring at his ceiling and enjoying the sound of the city and Pug’s quiet snores from his pillow bed in the corner, Castiel can’t help but be grateful, despite his disagreement with his brother. It feels good to be back, it feels _ right _ and he’s looking forward to spending the next few weeks with the store’s inventory while he figures out what he wants to do with the business. Re-opening makes the most sense and based on the things he’s already seen from the business records, his uncle was bringing money in through online sales only. Buyers have been reaching out since his death and Castiel needs to go through all of those emails soon, as well.

Cars honk in the far distance and someone laughs loudly outside his window.

It feels like Castiel thinks home should. 


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the rocky welcome back to the city, Castiel didn’t imagine he would have so much trouble establishing a routine, once they were more or less settled in.

He was incorrect.

Every day seems to present itself with another challenge. Without even mentioning their struggle with the time change, Pug can’t seem to adjust to any sort of schedule, sleeping for long stretches and then waking randomly throughout the night, requesting walks. Castiel hates that he can’t seem to get a grip on things, and it doesn’t help that he keeps discovering new facets of his uncle’s business affairs which require his attention, like the three thousand square feet of warehouse space his uncle rented in the Bronx, which turned out to contain even more inventory than what Castiel found in the store. 

It only takes one trip to determine that the warehouse is no place for a baby pig. It’s dirty, it’s large, and even if Castiel took the time to set up a playpen, Pug would find no joy in being stuck in it for long hours of the day. 

But he also can’t stay alone for long stretches of time, which complicates things for Castiel. He would like to get through whatever his uncle has stored as quick as possible, but given the circumstances, he will have to make adjustments as he goes. For now, Castiel waits until after Pug’s lunchtime walk to head over to the warehouse, knowing Pug won’t be alone for long. Claire’s taken to coming over after school and she’s happy to walk him and play with him while she does her homework.

It’s not a perfect solution, but if it’s his only one, Castiel will have to take it. 

Still, during their morning walks, Castiel is always contemplating his options. He needs a permanent solution; while it may be some time before he can open the store, it _ will _eventually be open and he needs a plan in the interim. 

The weather is lovely this morning, a cool breeze blowing through the trees above as Castiel and Pug head out towards the park. Rowena is out on her patio with a teacup and she waves to them both as they pass by. Castiel introduced her to Pug the day after they met and now, she is always happy to give the pig a pat and a tickle under his chin when they take their walks. 

Everybody they encounter loves Pug. Castiel can’t blame any of them, cute as he is and especially considering his wardrobe, with its various sweaters, t-shirts, a tu-tu and a recently added red rain slicker. He refuses to wear the matching rain boots though, and Castiel conceded on that, happy to carry Pug over any puddles that might be bigger than him. Today, Pug is wearing his newest hoodie, this one with a unicorn horn on the hood and even a colorful rainbow tail on the end. Claire found it online and knew it was just Pug’s style. It was delivered yesterday and Castiel can’t wait for Claire to see Pug strut around in it. 

They’ve reached the park, passing by the street performer who’s there every day. This morning, he’s singing opera (badly, but it’s Castiel’s understanding that’s the point) instead of show tunes and Castiel pitches a dollar into his case like he’s been doing every morning since they started their daily walks. The man winks at Castiel but doesn’t stop his performance. Castiel has to tug gently on Pug’s leash to pull him away from sniffing at the guitar case. 

Washington Square Park is beautiful in early spring and walking through it every morning, rain or shine, has come to be a bright part of Castiel’s day. He loves to watch people go to and from different corners of the park, families out for walks with their own pets, couples walking hand in hand down the shaded paths. It’s a place where people come to relax and enjoy the company of others and Castiel’s always happy when he sees the joy people share, considering the darkness in the world. 

Castiel lets Pug do his business in the grass and he cleans up after him before they go to sit by the fountain; Castiel to enjoy the buzz of the city and for Pug to enjoy the attention. No less than four children on their way to school, six NYU students heading to the subway, and a young couple with a stroller stop to pet Pug and coo at him before continuing about their day. 

Pug’s becoming spoiled by it all. 

The pig pushes at Castiel’s ankles and puts his front feet on Castiel’s knees, stretching up on hind legs in an attempt to be picked up. Castiel obliges, knowing it’s time to head home so Pug can go back to sleep for an hour or two. Pug likes his routine just as much as Castiel does. 

He cuddles his sweet friend for a moment before he takes a small container filled with raisins and dried cranberries from his jacket pocket. Recognizing his treats, Pug wiggles in Castiel’s arms until Castiel puts him down, Pug planting his round bottom on the ground between Castiel’s feet. He stares up at Castiel patiently, just like he’s been trained to do. 

“Good boy, Pug,” Castiel coos, feeding his friend a few raisins. Pug is a noisy chewer and his sweet little snuffles give away his enjoyment of his treat, and that makes Castiel happy. A few more berries and Pug’s energy is back, his little tail spinning as he trots away as far as his leash will allow and then back again. The small smile stays on Castiel’s face as they stand to head home. 

He’s very glad to be back in New York. 

Castiel waves at the woman sitting on the edge of the fountain, a flock of pigeons around her feet as she throws them a mixture of seeds and berries, something Castiel noticed the other day on their lunchtime walk. She seems to be on a similar schedule to theirs. 

The woman waves back happily with a warm smile and goes back to feeding her birds. 

They are almost out of the park when he sees a shock of bright blue hair that was previously pink on the same man who brought Rowena her groceries on Castiel’s first night back. He’s entering the park and his hair is radiant in the early morning rays of sunlight that only rival the intensity of the man’s smile. 

Until he’s close enough for Castiel to see his eyes and notice that they’re emerald, and somehow, they get _ brighter _ when he sees Castiel and Pug approaching. The man’s walking a large, bushy dog—well, more like, he’s being _ pulled _ by a large, bushy dog but he doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes on Castiel as they get closer and closer. 

The last time he saw the man, Castiel couldn’t take his eyes off him either. This time, his heart beats faster and his skin prickles in anticipation, and it’s not a feeling Castiel can remember having felt in a very long time. 

“Hey there,” the man greets him, his easy smile the sweetest Castiel’s seen. It makes the corners of his eyes crinkle in a charming sort of way. The hum of the city fades and all Castiel can hear is his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Hello,” he replies, his body turning to follow the man’s as they pass by each other.

The guy makes a move to stop, but grins even wider when his large dog has other plans, making a solid effort to get to and possibly snack on the pigeons near the fountain. Castiel huffs a laugh when the man does a funny hop to get his leg over the length of leash threatening to tangle around him and still, still unable to tear his eyes or that smile away from Castiel. 

He makes one last attempt at his personal autonomy and he puts his hand up to call out to Castiel. “Cute pig,” he shouts, shooting Castiel a quick wink before turning all his attention to the dog now trying to drag them both into the fountain. 

Castiel can only call back a soft thanks to the man’s retreating form. He watches and his cheeks flush when the guy looks back at Castiel right as he’s about to leave the park, that mischievous grin still on his face.

“Hey, buddy,” an imploring voice startles him and Castiel whips his head back to see the singing street performer looking at him with his eyebrows raised and his arms spread. “You wanna get your pig outta my guitar case?” 

Chocolate brown eyes blink up at Castiel, Pug’s rump planted right in the widest part of the case, amongst all the dollar bills and coins. 

“Oh! My apologies, I was—we were—” Castiel’s flustered as he goes to scoop Pug out of the case, brushing a quarter from his foot that falls back into the guitar case with a plink. “We’ll just be going.” 

“See ya tomorrow, llllover boy,” the man calls to Castiel as he hurries from the park, his cheeks burning and Pug in his arms. 

Castiel’s still rattled by the quick interaction and he breaks their routine to step into the small coffee shop on the corner of his street and grab a cup of tea, hoping it will calm his nerves.

A tinkling bell announces his arrival to 6th Street Cafe and it relieves Castiel to see at least one menu board over the counter dedicated to tea. A glass case displays row after row of baked goods; croissants in different flavors like chocolate and almond, scones bursting with fruit, and a large assortment of donuts, powdered sugar being the dominant flavor. 

“Hiya! Welcome to 6th Street Cafe, what can I getcha—oooh!” The woman greeting Castiel from behind the counter squeals when she realizes Castiel’s carrying a baby pig wearing a unicorn hoodie in the crook of his arm. “Who’s this sweet little slab of bacon?”

Castiel takes a step back and on instinct, puts a hand over Pug’s little ears. “Excuse me.” 

“Oh, I’m just kiddin’ with ya,” she says, her voice full of mischief and a bright smile on her face. “She sure is a cutie though, with her little horn.” The woman grins and flicks a piece of long blonde hair off her face. The nametag on her black apron says _ Donna, _ the word _ Owner _ in small print below it.

“He,” Castiel corrects, softening towards her, now that she’s stopped making jokes about his friend becoming breakfast. Pug snorts happily in his arms, taking in all the new smells. “My niece, Claire, picked this out for him.” 

“Well, your niece sure has an eye for fashion,” Donna replies, propping her hands on her hips. She smiles easily at them. “So, what can I getcha today? Coffee? You like tea? Got a new blend of Cherry Blossom green, just arrived from D.C.” 

Castiel’s ears perk up at green tea, and cherry blossom is a blend he’s never tried before. He nods. “Yes, a cup of that last one, please. And a cup of water for my friend? We’ve just come from our walk.” 

“Happy to do it!” She gets to work on making Castiel’s drink and keeps right on talking.

“Like I said, we just got this in and you’re the first person to have some, aside from me and my wife drinkin’ some last night. Made us both so drowsy, we almost missed the end of the show we were watchin’. You like Dr. Sexy, M.D.?” 

Castiel blinks at her, not quite sure why she wants to know if he has a doctor he prefers. 

“Jody loves it, it’s a real guilty pleasure. Really helps her unwind after a long day, you know? She’s a cop and after shift, well, anything to help her relax.” She pours the water to let the tea seep. “I remember those days, used to wear the badge myself.” 

“And now you bake.” 

She beams. “Donuts! Ain’t that a hoot?” She passes him his finished drink. “Baking was _ my _ way of relaxing. Jody thought I was good at it so we moved to the Village. Been here goin’ on eighteen years and it was the best decision we ever made.” Donna comes around the counter with a silver dish filled with water and a small plate with slices of zucchini on it. “Could your little friend use a snack?” 

Castiel nods. “How did you know he could eat that? Most people have no idea what pigs eat, I find. Someone once suggested _ bacon. _” Castiel still cannot. 

“I’m from Minnesota,” she replies, as if that explains everything. Donna pets Pug while he chews through a chunk of zucchini. “This little baby has quite the sensitive stomach, don’t you sweetie?” She smiles up at Cas. “Y’all visiting the school?”

Castiel shakes his head. “We recently relocated here. West End Books? My uncle was the owner.” The name of his uncle’s shop feels strange in Castiel’s mouth, but it’s possible Donna’s familiar, if she’s lived in the Village for some time. 

“Oh! Um, Chuck?” Her eyes brighten with recognition which quickly dims into sympathy. “We were real sorry to hear about his passin’.” She gives Castiel’s arm a gentle squeeze when she straightens. “He used to come in here, few years back. Hadn’t seen much of him these days though.” 

“Thank you,” Castiel murmurs. He had no idea what kind of life his uncle led or if there were people around town that knew him. He’s happy to know they exist. “I—we’re remodeling the store and eventually re-opening, so I hope it’s okay that you’ll likely be seeing more of us.” 

“Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day, I could always use some new friends!” Her grin is wide and contagious and Castiel’s mouth quirks into a flash of a smile. “One thing though…” she trails off and Castiel’s heart drops until Donna giggles. “I’m gonna need your names.” 

Castiel huffs out an embarrassed laugh. “My apologies.” He extends his hand. “Castiel Novak, very pleased to meet you.” Donna has a firm handshake. “This is Pug,” he says, hefting the pig up a bit. 

Donna scratches Pug’s nose and he nuzzles it into her palm. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Pug. I’ll make sure to keep treats on hand, just for you, if your daddy promises to come visit every once in a while.” 

Pug snorts his approval and Castiel shakes his head fondly. “Well, there you have it, we’ll be back.” 

Donna claps her hands and heads back behind the counter. “That drink should be the perfect temperature, give it a shot.” 

Castiel sips his tea, pleased that she’s right and enjoying the taste a lot, the cherry adding just the right amount of extra sweetness to the green tea. He confirms with Donna and she makes a pleased noise before getting back to work 

He wanders around, taking in the quaint store until his attention is drawn to a large community board, decorated with colorful flyers advertising college events and ads looking for roommates. Castiel notices a list of nightly events held at the coffee shop, things like Paint N’ Sip nights, poetry readings, and classes for scrapbooking or photography. 

Castiel’s taking a picture of that one when an electric blue flyer with the hand-lettered words “We Will (we will) Walk You” catches his eye. There is a row of adorable dogs drawn along the bottom of the flyer; a german shepherd wearing headphones, a little chihuahua with earbuds, and an adorable pitbull wearing sunglasses, a goofy grin on the dog’s face and its tongue hanging out. It’s the most clever dog walking advertisement Castiel’s ever seen. 

** _ Need some help walking your dog? We are fully insured and CPR certified with multiple time slots available, to suit any busy schedule! _ **

** _ It'll be a Walk in the Park! Contact us to speak with a specialist today! _ **

A dog walking specialist? Castiel looks at Pug, gnawing on his last chunk of zucchini and thinks an actual specialist might be perfectly capable of walking a pig amongst their other canine charges. 

Strips of paper at the bottom of the page have the name of the business and contact information printed on them, conveniently cut to make them easier to tear off. Quite a few strips are missing and Castiel takes that as a good sign. 

“Oh, you need someone to walk your little friend there? You should definitely call.” Donna is out from behind the counter to wipe down the little tables. 

Castiel turns towards her. “Do you think they’ll take a pig?”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask,” she chirps with a knowing smile. “I’m leanin’ towards a yes, ya ask me.” She comes to stand beside him in front of the bulletin board. She nods towards the event listing. “Come back for one of our community nights, meet some of your neighbors.”

Castiel considers it a good suggestion, especially if everyone is as nice as Donna and Rowena have been to him and Pug. He goes ahead and and rips off a little strip from the dog walker advertisement as well before thanking Donna for her hospitality and taking his leave with Pug trotting beside him. 

The slip of paper gets shoved in the pocket of his trench coat and Castiel goes about his day, the rest of the morning spent answering emails and taking Pug for his lunchtime walk, this one busy with people coming and going, noon being a peak time for students and business people to get some fresh air during their lunch hour. 

Which is why most of their walk is spent with Pug being pet and cooed at, his little tail flipping the whole time. It’s a cloudy day, so he’s still wearing his hoodie, adding to his charm. Back home, Pug runs for a quick drink of water, his little feet slipping over the hardwood before he trips snout first into the pillow he’s trying to climb on. Castiel huffs out a laugh when he finally makes it, only to burrow right under his purple blanket, the one covered in rainbows, only his little rump, tail, and hind legs sticking out, exhausted from an influx of cuddles, no doubt. 

Pug sleeps until Claire comes and Castiel can hear her talking to him as he leaves to go to the storage. Castiel loathes this work. It’s dusty and disorganized and the subway is crowded this late in the day, and by the time he’s on his way home again, his eyes hurt from scanning pages and pages of inventory, lists of titles and authors and numbers and none of it even remotely interesting. 

When he returns home, Castiel is tired, he’s filthy, but he still takes a moment to greet Claire and Pug, sitting together on the floor in front of the couch. Claire has headphones in and Pug’s laying on his back, feet kicking in the air while Claire scratches his pink belly. She acknowledges him with a wave as he heads towards the bathroom.

Claire is still doing her homework when Castiel emerges from a much needed shower, but Pug hustles straight over to him, knowing Castiel will scoop him up for a cuddle. He nuzzles Pug’s sweet head and breathes in the rose shampoo Castiel bought for him.

“Did you get a bath, sweet boy?” he murmurs, going to put on the kettle but pleased to find it already warming for him. He turns to Claire, thankful. 

“I ordered us some Thai,” she calls out. With nothing to do, he drops down onto the couch next to where she sits. Pug wiggles loose and slides off the couch to climb over Claire’s lap. 

“Homework done?”

Claire pulls off her headphones and smiles up at him while she helps Pug into her lap. “First thing. Then we had a walk and he found some mud.” 

There had been some late afternoon showers and Castiel had left in the middle of one himself. 

“I changed him into his slicker, but he still ended up a mess.” She shows him a few pictures on her phone and the mud puddle was considerable, given Pug’s small size. He looks thrilled to be in it though. “His coat is drying in the laundry room.”

“You didn’t let him down in the basement, right?” They’d remodeled it as well, but there were still too many small spaces for him to get stuck in, especially when Castiel wasn’t home. Plus it was full of Chuck’s boxes that still needed going through.

“No, he had a nap right after his bath and that’s when I cleaned. He woke up and we had a dance party and then I started some extra credit for my math class.” 

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “A dance party?” 

“Oh, he loves it, watch this.” Pug is still trying to walk on her lap and she pushes him to the floor before picking up her phone and opening the music application on her phone. 

Music with a quick beat comes pouring out of her speakers, something synthetic with a man singing about the rent being due. Pug’s sniffing around Claire’s feet but his ears perk up when he notices the music, and the most curious thing happens—his little tail begins to whip back and forth, the long hairs on the end flying. His little feet start tapping and Claire snorts out a laugh. “He’s dancing!” 

Castiel shakes his head and laughs because it does appear that Pug is dancing along to the music. “That’s very cute, he seems to enjoy it.” 

She pauses the music and Pug comes to sniff at her hands, nudging at her like he wants the music back on. Claire pets his nose but rolls away to stand up. “Our food’s here.” 

She steps over his stretched legs and heads down, her feet slapping the stairs. Castiel pushes himself warily to his tired feet so he can grab their plates and forks, setting them both a place at the breakfast counter to eat. Checking his watch tells him that once they’re done, it will be time to walk Claire back to the subway. 

Castiel pours a scoop of Pug’s pig food into his bowl, throwing in a few cut up pieces of broccoli, chunks of sweet potato and some peas from the crisper drawer saved just for the pig’s meals. He places the bowl on the floor just as Claire comes back upstairs. 

“Oh, he loves those snow peas you found, we took some on our walk.” Claire sets the bags on the counter and pulls out the styrofoam takeout containers. Their dinner fills the kitchen with the smell of garlic and lemongrass, and the curry makes Castiel’s mouth water. He dishes out food (vegan—Claire’s recently cut out meat so wherever they eat, it has to have vegan options) for them both while Claire finishes prepping a cup of tea for him and some seltzer for herself. 

He passes her a plate and she accepts it with thanks, settling onto the barstool. Castiel clears his throat. “Speaking of which, I’m thinking of hiring someone to walk Pug. Do you think that’s wise?” 

They both glance over at the pile of snorting blankets coming from inside Pug’s teepee. So noisy for such a small thing. 

She takes a bite of her pad thai and chews it thoughtfully, swallowing before she answers. “He’s really great on his leash. And he seems okay around other dogs,” Claire takes a sip of seltzer. “He played in the mud with a chihuahua on our walk today.” 

“Well, they’re comparable in size. What about larger dogs?”

“Aww Uncle, Pug is a tough little guy. He can hold his own.” 

At the sound of his name, Pug sticks his cute little nose out of his blanket, flicking it until the blanket falls of his face and he blinks at them. Claire giggles and Pug ducks back under his blankets and continues to root around. He’ll be worn out by the end of their walk and most likely, Castiel will have to carry his sleepy butt home from the subway. 

They finish their dinner in silence, Claire reading on her phone and Castiel going over his options again. He can’t keep up the way he’s going, the few hours he has at the warehouse just not enough, if he wants to finish going through the inventory anytime soon. He’d only been able to locate half the boxes on the pages he wanted to complete today and it’s been like this since he started. Castiel’s been jotting down thoughts about a better system but everything’s on paper, his uncles computer a relic and pretty much useless to him at this point. 

Castiel sighs. With their plates clean, Castiel gathers them up to put them in the sink, refusing Claire’s offer to do them. “Why don’t you go ahead and get your stuff ready?” He already has a text from his brother about the time and a reminder of their conversation. “I’ll take care of these before bed.” 

He hasn’t spoken to his brother since their last discussion, simply replying to his text messages with a simple _ okay _ or _ sure. _ Castiel’s had plenty of opportunities to talk to Claire about it and he’s loathe to break the peace of their evenings together, but if he’s going to do the responsible thing, he should probably at least test the waters. 

Castiel checks outside to make sure it’s not raining before he takes the purple hoodie from the tiny coat rack and wrestles Pug into it. He’s wiggly, he loves his walks and it takes all of Castiel’s patience to get him into his harness. Claire’s willing and ready to take the leash and scoop Pug into her arms before going down to the store. 

Castiel shrugs into his trench coat and leaves the lights burning for them before he’s following, locking the door to the store and joining Pug and Claire on the sidewalk. 

The night is quiet. Once it gets dark, most people turn in so there’s only a few people out on the street as they walk. The lights in Donna’s coffee shop burn bright and Castiel can see a few people inside. Castiel slips his hand in his pocket and his fingers close around the little slip of paper for the dog walker he put there earlier. 

They’ve reached the subway, and Claire picks him up and kisses Pug’s nose before she passes him to Castiel. She gives them a quick hug and kisses Castiel’s cheek before she’s hitching her bag on her shoulder and turning towards the stairs. 

“See you tomorrow, Uncle. Night Pug!” 

“Hey, Claire,” Castiel’s words halt her steps and she looks back at him. “You know you don’t _ have _ to come every day. If you have things for school, I’d understand—” 

“Did my dad say I couldn’t come over?” She turns back to him, her brow furrowed. “I told him to let it go this morning.”

“He didn’t. Why didn’t you mention you had an argument?” 

She sighs. “When aren’t we? You don’t want to hear about them all.” 

Castiel clenches his jaw. He hates this. 

“Please Uncle, coming over to your house keeps me sane right now. And if anything comes up that prevents me from coming, I’ll let you know right away.” She reaches out to scratch Pug between the eyes and he nuzzles into her palm and nibbles at the side of her hand when she presents her palm. “Please don’t make me stop coming over.” 

The quietness of her words sadden Castiel, her vulnerability bleeding through and making his heart hurt. Castiel regrets thinking he was helping with his reminder. He wraps an arm around Claire’s shoulder, pulling him to her in a tight hug. “You are _ always _ welcome with us and that will _ never _ change.” She buries her face in his chest and he kisses the top of her head, Pug snorting in agreement between them. Claire’s arms come around him to hug him back tightly. “I’m sorry if I implied otherwise.”

“Thanks, Uncle Cas,” she replies, her words muffled by his shirt. He lets go and they separate and Claire turns back towards the stairs. 

“See you tomorrow,” he calls out to her retreating form. Castiel’s sure she was wiping away a tear when she turned away so he watches her go down into the subway until she disappears. 

Castiel takes the long way home so he can pass through the park. The white lights of the Washington Square Arch glow in the darkness and a couple stand under it, pressed together from head to toe and enjoying each other’s company greatly, by the looks of it. 

Pug snores in his arms. 

Castiel doesn’t understand his brother _ or _ his great big objection to Claire spending time with him. Personally, he’s thrilled to be close to his family again and having Claire in his day-to-day life has been wonderful. 

It’s all very frustrating. 

He was hoping Jimmy would relax on this whole thing, but Castiel was clearly wrong. And Claire has been hiding their fights from him. It’s exactly how he didn’t want this to happen and the thought of sorting it all out is exhausting, far beyond what he’s capable of right now. 

Instead, as they walk home, Castiel begins to craft an email to the dog walking specialist about a very special potential client, currently asleep in his arms and dreaming of mud puddles, no doubt. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Pink? Or purple?” 

Castiel holds up the two hoodies, Pug’s trusted favorite and a newer pink version they picked up last week. Due to meet the dog walking specialist in less than an hour, Castiel’s getting frustrated at Pug’s lack of cooperation. He keeps running to his trunk of clothes and yanking out his tutu which Castiel just doesn’t find appropriate for the occasion. 

“Just let him wear the tutu, Uncle,” Claire says from the kitchen. She’s been fussing in there for some time, but Castiel has no idea what she’s doing. “He looks cute in it.”

Pug snorts, as if Castiel should pay attention.

“I won’t argue with you on that. It just seems like a bit much for a quick walk.” 

“Then why are you dressed like you're going to the office?”

Castiel looks down at his white button down and blue tie. It’s backwards and he straightens it, smoothing down the front. His navy blue slacks aren't wrinkled and he's barefoot, but that's to be expected inside. Try as he might, Castiel can’t see anything wrong with his appearance. 

“This is how I always dress.” He doesn’t see why it even matters in the slightest. He squints at Claire as she comes out of the kitchen, Castiel’s large wicker picnic basket in her hands. It has flaps that open on both sides with leather straps that hold a buffalo checked blanket for them to sit on. 

She holds it up with a sparkling grin. “You wanna wear that to our picnic?” 

By the time they make it outside, Pug’s wearing his favorite pink and green tutu (the tiny silver stars on the tips of the tulle really make it special—and sparkly) and Castiel’s in a pair of khaki pants (that Claire hates) and a dark grey sweater she found in his closet and insisted he put on over his white button up, Claire folding the cuffs of Castiel’s shirt over and pushing up his sleeves before announcing him acceptable. 

Rowena’s snipping herbs in her small garden, but she straightens and smiles brightly at them as they make their way to the sidewalk. 

“Good day, Rowena,” Castiel calls out with a wave, admiring the way her bright red curls glint in the sun. 

“Heading for a picnic are we?” She smiles and shields her eyes. “Aye, look at our fancy boy, all dressed up to go out on the town.”

Castiel glances down at Pug, who’s wiggling and straining against his harness to reach Rowena for a pet. Claire steps into her little courtyard so he can say hello. 

She leans down to scratch the top of the pig’s head. “You’re looking very cute as well, little lad.” A follow up wink at Castiel has his blush rising as he gets her innuendo, Claire giggling at their exchange.

He clears his throat. “Yes, well, thank you,” he stammers. “We are indeed heading to the park.” 

“Wonderful weather for it. I might also fancy myself a walk later.” She picks a few sprigs of purple and green leaves from the large, flattened bowl she’s collecting herbs in before she sets it down. Using the stalks, Rowena fashions a quick flower crown out of them and hooks it over one of Pug’s ears with a little scratch under his chin. Pug sniffs the air and when he catches the scent of the flowers, his nose twitches and a tiny sneeze follows, making the little crown fly off his head. Rowena just chuckles, picks it up, and places it back crookedly.

Castiel furrows his brow and hopes whatever the adornment is made of is safe for pigs. 

“Lemon balm and lavender,” Rowena advises as Pug and Claire return to the sidewalk. She raises her eyebrow at Castiel and gives him a sly smile. “It's perfectly harmless papa, non-toxic, you have my word.” 

It’s possible she can read his mind when, the moment after he has the thought, Rowena winks at him. “Have a lovely day, little family.” 

Castiel thanks her as they all fall into step, heading towards the park. The breeze is fair on their faces and Pug snorts happily as he walks in front of them, his tail flipping. He’s so precious to Castiel, so important to his life and he’s very nervous about leaving him with a stranger. Sad as it might be, Pug is Castiel’s only friend and he’d be devastated if something happened to him because Castiel couldn’t manage his time. 

He’s going through a list of worst case scenarios when he notices that Claire isn’t beside him anymore, instead stopped short a few feet behind. Pug blinks up at him, also confused about why they’ve stopped. 

“Claire?”

“Sorry Uncle, I just got a reminder on my phone about an assignment I missed.” Big blue eyes are blinking innocently at him now. “I need to go back to your house.” 

“Oh. Well.” Castiel looks between her and the picnic basket in his hands. “Let’s go back, then.” School comes first. Those are the rules. Castiel can run over to the park himself after he gets Claire settled. They have some time before his meeting with the dog walker. “We can make this a supper picnic.” 

Claire’s already shaking her head. “No, you guys go. I don’t want you to be late.” She shoves Pug’s leash into Castiel’s hands and takes a moment to fuss with his collar and to push his hair down where it always sticks up in the back. “Stop frowning at me, it’s gonna give you wrinkles.”

“So?” His frown deepens. “What are you doing?”

She steps back to take him in, nodding before smiling brightly at him. “Have fun, see you guys later!” Claire turns on her Converse covered heel before Castiel can object. 

Pug’s more interested in sniffing around the trunk of the closest tree than being involved in Castiel’s current dilemma. Castiel’s instinct says to reschedule, to follow Claire home and have lunch there but he knows he needs this dog waking thing to work for them, if he’s ever going to finish sorting inventory and ultimately, get the store back open. Plus, he’s already running a few minutes later than he’d like.

Resigned, Castiel continues their trek to Washington Square Park. 

There’s quite a few people out and Castiel’s grateful Pug is so good at walking on his leash because he’s trotting right beside him, keeping him safe from all the surrounding bustle. They pass the street performer and today he’s making balloon animals and there’s a queue of children lined up waiting their turn. A few of them squeal when they see Pug in his tutu, but leaving the line must not be worth the chance to pet him, since none of them run over.

The plan is to meet the specialist—Dean, the email said—under the big ash tree that shades much of the grassy knoll. The park is already filled with people; families playing soccer, couples sitting together in the shade, students out enjoying a day off from their classes. Castiel searches for anyone who appears to be waiting but comes up short, everyone seeming to be doing what they're meant to be doing and not waiting for him and Pug to arrive. 

He finds an empty space to wait, setting the basket down and taking a seat beside it, Pug sniffing around the grass, tilting his little head when he wants to bite at the longer stalks. Castiel’s disappointed when he notices that somewhere along the way, Pug’s lost his little crown. He runs a hand down Pug’s back, idly wondering where it could have fallen off as he curls Pug’s tail around his finger before giving it a slight tug and letting go. Castiel gets a snort and a flick of Pug’s head in response. Little grumpy pig, the way he does that, it's no wonder his crown fell off. 

Castiel’s thankful for the breeze but pushes at his rolled sleeves anyway and he’s starting to rethink the sweater when a shadow falls over him, accompanied by a deep chuckle. 

“It’s you.” 

Blinking against the sun he’s blocking, Castiel can see a halo of glowing blue hair before the man steps closer, and it’s him, the man with the dog, the man he saw at Rowena’s. 

His name is Dean.

“The cute pig with the cute owner. I was hopin’ it was you that emailed me.” A cheeky grin and a quirk of an eyebrow has Castiel scrambling to his feet while Dean squats down to greet them. He laughs, straightens, and holds his hand out. There’s a thick silver ring on one finger and a black leather cord wrapped around his wrist a few times. 

“Dean Winchester, dog walking specialist extraordinaire, glad to officially meet ya,” he says, a kindness in his voice that puts Castiel at ease beyond what the man’s smile’s already done for Castiel’s nerves. A jiggle of Dean’s still empty hand reminds Castiel of his manners and he shoves his hand into Dean’s to shake it up and down. 

“Hi, yes, hello,” he stammers, flustered by the roughness of Dean’s palm and the way it drags against his own. It’s warm and Dean’s grip is firm and his fingers wrap easily around Castiel’s hand. “Castiel. Castiel Novak.” 

“Nice to meet ya,” Dean says, laughing a little when he has to pull his hand out of Castiel’s grip so he can squat back down to greet Pug. His hair is iridescent and Castiel has to tear his eyes away from the way it flutters in the gentle breeze.

He needs to get it together. He swallows a few times, taking a deep breath in through his nose and out of his mouth before he kneels back down next to Dean. 

“And who do we have here?” Dean holds a hand out for Pug to sniff and Pug does,  _ enthusiastically, _ so much so, Dean must have something that smells good about him because Pug is nosing at the back of his hand. It makes Dean throw his head back in laughter, a sweet sound that Castiel wants to hear again. 

“This is Pug,” Castiel states, leaning in to smooth down an errant piece of green tulle on Pug’s tutu. “He’s a miniature pot belly pig, three months old, and very opinionated.” 

Dean chuckles. “That so? I like his style,” he says to Castiel out of the corner of his mouth before he goes back to talking to Pug. “I like a guy that has a little flair for the dramatic.” 

Says the man with the electric blue hair. There are matching holes in the knees of Dean’s jeans and another across the top of one of his thighs which would all seem normal were it not for the hot pink paint splattered up and down the nearest leg. His black henley is tucked into one side, the other draped over his hip and bunching around his stomach. He has a green canvas jacket tied around his slim waist and black scuffed up boots, one of which is coming untied. 

Castiel can’t help but drink in every detail of him as he talks quietly to Pug, the little pig bumping his nose into Dean’s knees and wiggling under his hands and between his legs. 

“So your email said you need someone during the week? Just one walk a day?” 

Castiel tears his eyes away from Dean’s hands and how they make Pug look tinier by comparison. He clears his throat. 

“Yes, he needs at least three to four walks a day and while I’d like the opportunity to take him on all of them, I’m afraid I have a store to set up and it’s been more work than I anticipated.” 

“West End Books, right? You’re Ro’s new neighbor. I remember seeing you.” Dean grins at him, all perfectly straight teeth and deep laugh lines around his mouth and the corners of his eyes. “How do you like living next to a witch?”

“A—I’m sorry, a what?” 

Another flash of that smile and Dean gestures at the basket sitting in the grass. “Whatcha got there? You guys gonna have a picnic?” Pug runs over to it, nosing at the rim. “I can help you unpack it, if you want.”

“I—yes—I'd appreciate that.”

Bewildered. That's how Castiel feels. He wasn’t even planning on unpacking the picnic basket at all and now Dean’s kneeling in front of it and messing with the straps around the blanket. Castiel leans in and pulls it free with no need to open the straps. It earns him a dazzling smile and all Castiel can do is stand, on auto-pilot, and flick the blanket open while Dean scoops Pug into the crook of one arm, only to place him and the picnic basket onto the blanket once Castiel guides it down onto the grass. 

Children run by them laughing, adding to the murmur of the park surrounding them. Dean pulls item after item from the basket; first some sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, then a bag of vegetable puffs, followed by a plastic container filled with strawberries and other fruits and snacks, Pug’s name written in Claire’s script on a piece of colorful tape. 

Dean shakes it at the little pig who is rooting around in the blanket, messing it up in one corner. “This is for you, little buddy.” Pug snorts and Dean chuckles. He pulls out a few bottles of seltzer and arranges everything on the blanket while Castiel kneels and unwraps the sandwiches, pushing Pug’s nose out of each wrapping as he chases their crinkles. 

“That’s strange, I expected one of these to be vegan but they’re both chicken salad.” Castiel frowns at the food in his hands. He glances up at Dean. “Is that okay? If you’d like to join us...” 

Dean looks up from the basket, surprised but pleased. “I like chicken salad.”

Castiel passes him one of the sandwiches with a shy smile. “Please let me know what you think.”

He takes what Castiel offers, holding up. “You made this?” 

Castiel nods as Dean settles cross-legged on the blanket. He unwraps the sandwich with enthusiasm and takes a large bite, grinning, mouth shut as he chews. Pug wastes no time climbing into his lap and settling down to face Castiel and blink at him from the valley of Dean’s legs. 

“Oh no, Pug, come here, baby.” Castiel’s blushing and trying not to stare, but Dean just swallows his bite and drags his knuckles over the top of Pug’s head, the pig pushing up into the movement. 

“He’s okay, it’s good for him to get to know me, if we’re gonna be spendin’ time together,” Dean says with a warm smile down at Pug.

Castiel doesn’t want to think about the way it makes him feel to watch Dean coax Pug out of his tutu so they can sit comfortably and eat. The container with Pug’s lunch sits next to Dean’s knee and he occasionally feeds him something from it, Pug snuffling into Dean’s hand as he eats. Dean checks his watch between bites for himself and bites for Pug. 

“Is this his normal lunchtime?” Dean leans over to pull a small moleskin from his back pocket, its black cover worn and held shut by a black elastic. A tiny pencil is stuck in the spine and Dean pulls it out and grips it between his teeth while flipping to a blank page. He scribbles on it, his half-eaten sandwich balanced precariously on his knee. “Why don’t you tell me about his schedule.” 

Castiel’s impressed by the way Dean seems to write down almost everything he says about their normal routine and he does it while also keeping Pug from grabbing his sandwich and climbing out of his lap to knock over their drinks, all things the pig is trying to accomplish while they talk. 

“How is he around other animals?” Dean feeds Pug a dried cranberry, capturing his attention before Pug tries to crawl under his leg. It makes Dean raise it up with a smirk. 

The crinkle of the crisp bag brings him trotting over to where Castiel sits, stopping when Castiel holds one up for him and waits until Pug sits back on his haunches. 

“Good boy, Pug, good boy,” Castiel coos at him, feeding him the tomato flavored vegetable puff. Dean’s looking at them fondly when Castiel answers him. “He’s only ever been around the old cat that used to live in the library where I worked, back in Washington, but he did well at the shelter I got him from.” 

Dean nods but doesn’t look surprised. “He’s still young, I got some little ones on my lunch route that Pug’ll join. Only one big dog but she’s a big mother hen, always trying to make the littles do what she wants them to do.” 

Castiel feeds another puff to Pug and watches as Dean crumples the wrapper of his now eaten sandwich into a little ball, tossing it into the open picnic basket. He drops his weight to one elbow and swings his long legs around to rest on his side. The two of them are having an honest to goodness  _ picnic _ in place of a business meeting and Castiel finds he’s rather enjoying himself. So is Pug, if the way he’s trying to chew on one arm of Dean’s jacket is any indication. 

“Sorry, he chews everything right now.” Castiel reaches to pull him away but Dean beats him to it with a laugh. 

“He needs a little something to bite, or a food ball,” Dean says, pulling his sleeve free from Pug’s little baby teeth. 

“He has a few things at home but my niece must not have packed any.”

“Yeah, basket was empty.” Dean sits up and puts Pug in the crook of his arm so he can tickle the pig under his little hairy chin. When he sat up, Dean shifted into a few beams of sunlight filtering through the ash tree and Castiel likes the way they dance in Dean’s hair, making it look like the waves of the ocean on a summer day. Dean’s laugh is warm and rich as Pug tries to nibble his finger now that Dean took away his jacket and when Dean dips his chin down, a stray sunbeam catches the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks and Castiel has to bite back a gasp. 

The sheer number of freckles that explode against Dean’s warm skin and a particularly dark one in the curve of his nose have Castiel enthralled. He wants to drag Dean into the direct sunlight to see if he has more freckles in more places like the backs of his knees and the dip of his throat, in that strip of skin that Castiel’s eyes have been drifting to the entire time they’ve been sitting here. Occasionally, Castiel sees a brown leather cord peeking out when Dean’s shirt moves because he shifted or a breeze catches it. 

He blinks when he realizes Dean’s looking at him in amusement, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth and that certainly doesn’t help Castiel concentrate. 

“I’m sorry—what was that?” Try as he might, his subconscious can’t recall anything Dean just said but honestly, he can’t even be blamed at this point. Dean is ridiculously good looking. 

“I was just askin’ when you wanted to get this thing started.” Dean’s smile is cheeky when he gestures between them. “Sooner the better, way your email sounded.” His hand goes up and Dean runs his hand through his hair, thick fingers sliding between the blue locks. When Dean’s hand passes through that persistent sunbeam, Castiel notices that the back of his knuckles are dusted in freckles too. 

“Yes.” Castiel blinks. “Yes, we could start as soon as Monday, if that’s all right?” 

“Monday’s cool. I can do noon, unless that’s too early, then I can do one-thirty.” Dean leans over and flips the untucked hem of his henley up so he can dig into the pocket of his jeans for his phone, exposing a slash of his hip. It has at least three freckles on it. 

Dean sits back up and Castiel follows the movement, clearing his throat. “Noon would be great.” 

The smashing crinkle of the veggie crisp bag as Pug attempts to walk over it and towards the open field has both men reaching for him at the same time. Dean's hand closes atop Castiel’s as his fingers wrap around Pug's tiny, squirming body. A tingle races up Castiel’s arm as he pulls Pug close to his chest and Dean laughs and takes his hand back, lifting it to rub the back of his neck with a huff and a grin. 

"Sorry, it's just habit, keepin' em from escaping."

The electronic sound of a guitar rip prevents Castiel from thanking Dean instead of accepting an apology, and Dean stares at his phone in disbelief. "We've been sittin' here for an hour, can you believe that?" He flashes the screen at Castiel, the time displayed over a photo of some kind of royal crest Castiel doesn’t recognize. 

Dean's right. They've been talking for the better part of an hour and to Castiel, it feels like just minutes. 

"You two gotta forgive me, but I gotta get on to my next appointment." The regret is clear in the way his eyebrows go up in apology but that quickly turns into a playful grin. "But I got a lot to look forward to, come Monday." 

They both climb to their feet and Dean has the decency to pretend not to notice Castiel’s rising blush. Castiel pretends not to notice the way Dean's grin gets a fraction wider. 

"Ain't that right, Pug?" Facing each other now, Dean reaches out to pet Pug, the tips of his fingers brushing Castiel’s chest as he sweeps a hand down Pug's back. He flashes another one of those dazzling smiles at Castiel, all teeth and charm. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows expectantly, his emerald eyes playful until he blanches at the blank look Castiel gives him in return. 

“Casablanca?” Dean’s face goes the flattest Castiel’s seen yet. “You don’t know Casablanca? It’s a classic, man!” 

Castiel tilts his head, unsure of why Dean is so affronted. Growing up, they didn’t have a TV and Castiel cared more about books and what was in them and as he got older, that never changed. He could probably count the number of movies he’s seen on both hands. 

Rather than tell Dean that, Castiel just lets him know he’s never seen the movie which makes that nice smile come back. 

“Well, that’s easy enough to fix!” Dean’s phone makes that guitar noise again and he smiles wider. “You two are makin’ me late. It sure was nice to finally meet you, Castiel. Nice to meet you too, Pug.” He reaches out to rub a finger between Pug’s eyes, his favorite kind of scratch. Pug closes his sweet eyes and nuzzles up into the touch. “Great chicken salad, by the way.” 

And then Dean’s gone. A whirlwind of color and light and nothing at all like anyone Castiel’s come across, maybe ever and now, without his presence, everything seems duller. Pug seems to be caught up in Dean as well because Castiel swears he sees a hint of melancholy in his chocolate brown eyes when Pug blinks up at him.

“Don’t worry, baby, you’ll see Dean again soon,” he reassures his friend as the heat Dean left behind starts to leave his cheeks. Pug seems content with that answer and he squirms to be put down. Castiel obliges, shaking his head clear of any lingering Dean shaped cobwebs that seem to cloud his mind. 

As he cleans up their picnic, Castiel can’t help but laugh at himself, getting caught up in a man like Dean. He knows better. Charming, interesting people like Dean Winchester don’t fall for boring librarians. It’s just not something that happens outside of fiction and it’s pretty much Castiel’s  _ job  _ to know that. Real life never really tries that hard, especially when it comes to someone as unremarkable as Castiel knows himself to be. 

The most interesting thing about him is currently trying to escape and join a group of crows eating bugs from the grass a few feet away. Castiel picks Pug up to place him gently inside the picnic basket so Castiel can roll up their blanket without the distraction of his tiny little escapist trying to make a run for it. Not to say Pug is a complete angel even in the basket because he manages to rip open the crisp bag and spill the rest of the chips in the few minutes it takes Castiel to finish his task. Mouth stuffed full, he’s trying to crush the rest with his hooves when Castiel scoops him back out to clip on his leash so they can walk home. 

His thoughts keep wandering back to Dean while they walk. When they were talking about Pug’s schedule, Dean’s eyes had taken on a softness that made Castiel’s heart beat faster and every so often, he’d check with the little pig (who sat with Dean the entire time) to confirm if Castiel was telling the truth and it was as adorable as it was absurd and silly and Castiel can’t remember someone coming in and being able to charm him so quickly with just one interaction. 

Castiel doesn’t have crushes. He doesn’t  _ date _ either. There was a time, in college, he had what he thought was a committed relationship, but after that ended and Castiel graduated, he was more intent to find employment, a place to live—to establish a life for himself. Because his thoughts were still sour after the way things ended with Inias, finding that life didn’t include finding a partner and after a while, Castiel forgot to feel alone. Having spent his entire childhood with a constant companion that looked just like him, Castiel  _ likes  _ his solitude and he’s gotten used to living that way for a long time. 

Besides, Dean is far too beautiful to even consider and there’s no way he’d be interested in a man like Castiel, cute pig or not. 

His life just isn’t one of those stories. 

Pug is asleep in the crook of Castiel’s arm by the time they get home, his little butt becoming drowsy before they left the park, a result of too many crisps, Castiel doesn’t doubt. It’s a struggle to keep him asleep while getting the basket inside so he drops it by the door before he heads upstairs, only to be met with his niece, dancing around, headphones on, and a broom in hand. Castiel  _ thinks _ she’s sweeping the floor but he can’t be too sure. Whatever she’s doing, it’s quite adorable.

Even sweeter is when Claire notices them standing in the doorway and her face melts into a smile as she quickly changes trajectory and scoops the sleeping pig away from him. “How did it go?” she whisper asks over her shoulder before disappearing into the first bedroom. It’s the room they decorated mostly for Pug (but really for Castiel’s books) and one of his beds is there, Claire no doubt taking him to finish his nap. 

Castiel uses the opportunity to fetch the picnic basket and he’s coming back inside when Claire emerges from the bedroom, leaving the door open a crack. 

“Well?” Claire’s normal voice is back when she joins Castiel in the kitchen to take over unloading the basket. She clicks her tongue when she opens it. “What the hell happened here?” 

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Your cousin.” 

“Of course,” she says with a giggle as she shakes the tiny tutu out over the sink to get all the crumbs off, the lining to the picnic basket following. “So,” she draws the word out as Castiel (finally) pulls his sweater off, the neck of it mussing his hair as it goes over his head. “Tell me about the meeting. I see you ended up having the picnic,” she comments, innocently. Too innocent, Castiel can’t help but notice. “Everything taste okay?” 

Castiel narrows his eyes. “It was fine, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t have liked it. You packed us both chicken salad.” 

To her credit, Claire only freezes for a second before she throws a wide eyed look at him over her shoulder. “I did?” 

He crosses his arms over his chest and waits. 

Claire does a double take over her shoulder before she turns and holds her hands up. “What? I messed up, mistakes were made, what do you want me to say?” 

Castiel’s not buying it and Claire knows it. 

“Fine!” She rolls her eyes before turning back to the sink to rinse down the crumbs. “I looked up the dog walker on Yelp,” she mutters, almost low enough that Castiel can’t hear her over the rushing water. In fact, he thinks he heard  _ wrong  _ because there’s no way his niece would do something so insane. 

“Claire, that’s—” 

Claire shuts the water off and turns back, her arms waving, water flying from the tips of her fingers. “Inappropriate, I know but isn’t he cute?” 

Castiel’s cheeks grow warm and Claire grins as she dries her hands. “Claire,” he warns. 

“Come on Uncle, he  _ is _ cute, right? And I noticed that the picnic basket was empty,” she singsongs, raising her eyebrows at him. 

Castiel shakes his head and collapses on the couch, the day starting to catch up to him. The last thing he wants is for Dean to think Castiel might have been trying to—to pick him up or something, presenting their meeting as a picnic or—or—some kind of date? He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“He might be working for me, Claire. There are just some things you don’t mix.” 

The eye roll he receives is epic. “It’s not that big a deal, Uncle. Did you have a nice time at least?” 

“That’s besides the point,” he grouches, wanting this conversation to be over.

Claire’s pleased. “And you’re going to hire him, right?” 

Castiel already did, the details of which he and Dean agreed to work out, come Monday. Dean will email Castiel a contract and some forms to sign and their arrangement will officially begin. His heart speeds up at the thought of seeing Dean again. 

He ignores Claire’s sounds of celebration at whatever she’s reading on his face. It doesn’t matter what Castiel thinks of Dean, or if he’s attracted to him because all he needs to do is trust that Dean will take care of the one thing Castiel loves most in this world, besides Claire. 

It’s easy to focus on that when Pug comes hustling out of his bedroom, tail flipping when he sees Claire kneeling down to greet him. Any further thoughts of Dean are fleeting as their attention is immediately given to the little pig, their little friend, the sweetness in both their lives. If Castiel thought for even a second, if he’d gotten even the slightest indication that Dean wouldn’t take care of Pug, Castiel would have ended their lunch in a heartbeat and never looked back. He went with his gut instead and now only time would tell if his decision turns out to be a sound one or not. 


	6. Chapter 6

Working with Dean is a dream come true. He’s prompt, and he doesn’t complain when Castiel and Pug aren’t. Most days, Dean shows up a few minutes early to pick up Pug and Castiel’s started to get into the habit of anticipating him and being ready and waiting downstairs. The way Dean’s face lights up when he sees them waiting for him the first time ensures that Castiel does it every day that follows. 

The color of Dean’s hair changes every week. Castiel’s favorites include a lovely mauve and a color Dean called Purple Panik, which just made his eyes turn peridot and Castiel swears for that whole week, they glittered even more than usual. 

Monday thru Friday, Dean arrives after Pug’s lunch, a flurry of easy laughter and clever turns of phrase, most of the time quoting something Castiel doesn’t understand or just talking fast around him to get the heat to rise in his cheeks. It seems to be something that brings Dean a lot of enjoyment, if the way he laughs is any sign, his slender body bending back, his bowlegs parting wider the further he goes, hands always carelessly draped over his stomach, the long line of his throat exposed, the perfect heart under his chin a curve Castiel’s not entirely sure is real. It must exist on some other plane of existence because no person is actually that perfect. 

So… Castiel still has his crush. 

He’s managing it. Claire says otherwise, but Castiel’s fine, he’s an adult and can handle this sort of thing. What he can’t handle is when Dean notices and his cheeks flush a little easier and his eyes twinkle a little more. Their interactions are brief, usually just a quick handoff as Castiel’s heading out for the day. Some days, Dean arrives on his bike, making Pug his first and last stop for his lunch group. He was stashing his bike on Rowena’s patio until Castiel offered to let him keep it inside his shop where at least it could be in a locked location. 

Dean’s smile that day made Castiel wish he’d asked a week sooner. 

Every exchange stays with Castiel for hours, helpful during the long hours spent alone in the dusty storage space. Dean always provides Castiel with a run down of their walk from the day before and this morning, he’s recounting a funny moment between Pug and one of his dogs from his morning group, a german shepherd named Eleanor who was moved to the lunch session for the day. 

“So, she’s an ex police dog, real tough right?” Dean leans casually against the future checkout counter as Castiel tries to wrestle Pug into his harness. The early afternoon light filters through the big shop windows and it makes Dean’s tangerine hair glow like a ripe orange, still hanging on its tree. “She’s a real stickler for the rules, this one, really hates when the other dogs don’t walk right.” 

Castiel loves the way Dean talks about his charges, like they’re tiny people. He has such a feel for each of their personalities. 

“And she hates change, just gets real huffy you know?” He leans down when Pug wiggles free from Castiel’s grasp to run straight into Dean’s open hands. A few steps and he’s plucking the harness from Castiel’s hand, his thick fingers brushing Castiel’s. There’s a blotch of yellow paint on the back of Dean’s hand and a black leather cord around his wrist, red wooden beads stopped by a knot at each end. 

Dean clears his throat, a small cough to regain Castiel’s attention. He has a small secret smile on his face as he fastens the harness shut on Pug who is now sitting perfectly still in the crook of Dean’s arms while he works. 

Traitorous little piglet. 

Castiel’s cheeks burn but he makes a sound to show he’s listening as he folds a blanket from Pug’s enclosure and tries not to act like he just got caught staring at Dean’s hands and slender wrists. 

“Like I was sayin’, minute she saw Pug here, well, I’d never seen the girl sidestep so fast. She did not know what to make of you, did she little man?” Pug snuffles in agreement and Dean puts him down in the pen set up just for him during the day when Castiel’s not home. Dean has a key to the store and can drop Pug off inside and lock up. 

“‘Course, that means Pug only wants to hang out with  _ her _ , like he knows the big scary police dog is terrified of his tiny, fluffy butt, spends the whole day trying to walk with her.” Dean looks down at Pug trying to eat his pillow and he smiles proudly. “I swear, that big, scared baby was so careful, Cas, just spent her whole walk making sure she didn’t step on him or anything. By the time I came out from dropping off that new poodle I told you about, they were both waiting outside the door, all curled up together asleep.” 

Dean digs his phone out of his pocket. “Here, I took a picture for ya.” 

Castiel’s heart swells with love at the sight of his precious little friend sleeping between the crossed paws of an enormous but beautiful german shepard, her head resting protectively over the tiny pig. 

“I’m glad she didn’t try to eat him,” Castiel says softly. He looks up at Dean hopefully. “Can you please send that to my phone?” 

“Course, buddy,” he replies, just as soft. They stare for a beat. Two, maybe three, their matching smiles never wavering. Only Pug’s snuffles manage to break up the moment between the two men. 

“I should be going—” 

“Think it’s about time we—” 

They both laugh and Dean ducks his head before leaning down to scoop Pug back into his arms. “Say bye to your dad, little dude.” He busies himself with clicking the leash onto the harness. “I’ll send you that picture, first chance I get,” he promises and then they’re gone. Castiel allows himself to bask in it for a moment like he usually does, before he has to go as well.

Every day he interacts with Dean ends up being a good day. Add to that the nights Claire waits for him to get home so they can have dinner, Castiel often helping her with assignments or simply chatting or reading on the couch together. It’s  _ nice, _ a big change from his solitary life in Washington.

And while he may be easily distracted by Dean, Castiel’s found that above all else, it’s lovely to think they might be friends. Dean certainly acts friendly. He always has a funny joke or anecdote to share and he’s constantly on the lookout for ways to tease Castiel and make him smile. 

Another morning, he starts his ruse right off the bat by calling Pug by the wrong name, greeting him as  _ Wilber _ instead.

Castiel frowns at the name, confused. “It’s… Pug,” he advises cautiously, not wanting to offend in case Dean forgot, considering he calls the little pig  _ dude _ or _ buddy _ a lot.

Dean presses a finger to his lips like he has to think for a minute. “Yeah, I don’t like that nickname either. Back to the drawing board, I guess.” Shrugging, he bounces his eyebrows until Castiel realizes he was making a joke, and one that Castiel understands.

Castiel smiles at Dean’s cleverness. “Oh yes, like the book.” He was quite fond of  _ Charlotte’s Web _ when he was a child and he can’t believe Dean’s the first person to make the correlation. 

Until Dean wrinkles his forehead in confusion. “Like that cartoon, my little brother used to love it. Never read the book.” He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal.

Appalled, Castiel asks Dean to wait for just a moment so he can run upstairs and fetch his own copy because those are words no librarian ever likes to hear. When he brings it down, he insists that Dean give it a chance. It’s a lifelong battle Castiel has fought valiantly, the “book versus movie” debate and Castiel, an intellectual, knows that the book is  _ always  _ better than the movie and anytime he’s tested his theory, he’s been proven right. 

It’s a hill he’s willing to die on. 

Thankfully, he need not make such a case with Dean because he takes it with a smile and tells Castiel he’s happy to give it a shot but cautions that it could take some time, Dean citing himself a slow reader. Castiel tells him to take as long as he needs. 

Two weeks later, Dean returns with the book, a big grin, and a gift. Stepping right into Castiel’s personal space, his green hair sticking up like stiff stalks of summer grass, Dean fixes a small enamel pin to the lapel of Castiel’s trench coat. 

“Made that for ya,” he says as he steps back, one side of his mouth quirked up in a proud, soft smile. 

The pin is round-ish and, upon closer examination, Castiel sees it’s a spider web, the words  _ SOME PIG _ spun into the web, just like the story. 

“It’s to say thanks. For letting me borrow your book.” 

Castiel looks up at Dean with wide eyes, his heart full from Dean’s thoughtfulness. Ducking his head, Dean makes himself busy scooping Pug into his arms, his cheeks stained pink. 

“This is—Thank you, Dean.” Castiel flips his lapel so he can look at the little pin again. Did Dean  _ make _ this? For  _ him _ ? All because Castiel lent him a book, an action he’s done many times with many people over many years and never has anyone given Castiel their thanks in this way. Some people didn’t even give the books  _ back. _ Castiel’s beyond impressed. “You made this?” 

Shy now, Dean nods and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s no big deal, just a hobby. And it was a good book so—thanks. Again.” 

Castiel thinks it’s a very big deal, but it’s clear Dean’s embarrassed by the way he’s avoiding Castiel’s gaze. Pug is blinking at Castiel from the crook of Dean’s arm and using that as a reason, Castiel steps into Dean’s personal space this time, to stroke one finger down Pug’s nose. Dean watches but looks up when Castiel speaks. 

“I’m glad you liked it, Dean.” When Castiel says his name, Dean’s eyes dart down to his lips and Castiel swears everything slows down to just the two of them, caught in time again—until Pug snorts between them. 

It’s like the world goes back online and both men huff out laughs. Their easy smiles linger for a beat too long before Pug is wiggling and Dean’s attention is brought back to his charge. 

“Ready to go, Mr. Pigglesworth?”

Castiel and Dean both wrinkle their noses the minute this nickname is out of Dean’s mouth and then they’re both cracking smiles again, the ease between them back to normal.

Dean shakes his head. “Yeah, that one’s a no.”

“Agreed.” 

He turns to leave and they’re almost out the door when Castiel decides to throw a little caution to the wind, leftover bravado from the moment they just shared. If Dean liked  _ Charlotte’s Web _ enough to make Castiel a  _ gift, _ he may be interested in other stuff to read. 

Castiel races after them, stepping out into the patio and the bright midday sun. “You can borrow books anytime you’d like,” he calls out, making Dean stop and turn back to him, his smile one hundred, hundred-fifty watts at least and brighter than the rays splitting through the branches he stands under. 

“How will you make any money then?” Dean says it with a wink and Castiel can’t even stammer out that that’s not what he meant before Dean and Pug are gone. 

He can only assume Dean understands he didn’t mean the inventory and—Ah, Dean’s joking, of course. Castiel knew that. He begins to compile a list of books he thinks Dean might like, intent to check his library and set some aside for him. Or maybe Dean would prefer to come and choose his own books? Castiel’s not sure if Dean would think it weird if he invited him inside his home though. 

Instead of worrying, Castiel pushes the thought out of his mind like many of the thoughts he has about Dean. 

Each of Castiel’s days blend into the next and spring makes way for summer, the days getting longer and the nights warmer. On the weekends, Castiel’s routine changes. Instead of leaving the city to work in the warehouse, Castiel spends Saturday entering all the inventory he went through that week and answering emails that have accumulated. 

When Castiel dug into his uncle’s affairs, he discovered that Chuck was running a lucrative online book selling business, specializing in rare and antique books. Castiel spends hours sometimes, going through boxes, searching for specific books, a proverbial needle in a haystack, as far as the inventory is concerned. He’s created a basic spreadsheet for data entry, but he’s thinking there has to be some other way to track his uncle’s inventory. 

The good news is, Castiel believes he’ll only need a few more weeks of trekking out to the Bronx before he’ll be done with this particular thorn in his side. 

The bad news is, once he’s done, he’ll no longer need Dean’s services. 

Castiel tries very hard not to think about that either. 

The end of May means June is approaching and for Claire, that means finals are nearing and she’s been studying non stop, most of the time at Castiel’s for a few hours each afternoon, much to the chagrin of her father. Castiel has pointedly ignored a few long-winded emails from his brother about it, only holding him at bay and off his doorstep with reassurances via text every few days. Jimmy never responds to the pig photos Castiel sends. 

He also believes Claire isn’t disclosing how things really are at home. Castiel’s noticed a pattern: by the end of the week, Jimmy sends his email, followed by Claire arriving on Saturday morning, only to withdraw into her books. She doesn’t come out of her shell until Sunday and by then, she has to go home and the cycle repeats itself. 

It’s not something about his Friday mornings that Castiel looks forward to, which is why it’s odd to him that Jimmy didn’t send one this morning. Instead, Castiel started his day with a lovely interaction with Dean. He returned the second book Castiel lent him,  _ Treasure Island _ and with it, another pin for Castiel’s coat. Dean’s second creation is a tiny treasure map, the dashes and the X that marks the spot hand drawn with care. 

Dean had blushed and said the book was nothing like a movie with something called a muppet in it but he admitted that he liked it better so score another one for Castiel. He enjoyed the way Dean’s cheeks glowed pink when he fixed the pin next to his first gift. How careful his hands worked not to drop the tiny backing, concentration etched on Dean’s face, the tip of his pink tongue held between his teeth. 

Castiel could do nothing but hold his breath and watch, take it all in and only exhale, slow and silent when Dean finally stepped back and away. 

He’s still replaying the moment over in his head when he and Pug return from their evening walk to find Claire asleep on the couch, limbs askew. Castiel didn’t think they were gone that long but then again, on the way home, they had wandered into Donna’s for a cup and ended up staying for a sandwich, meeting her wife Jody and their daughter Alex. They both cooed and loved on Pug and he had a wonderful time, they both did. Castiel found it nice to have such a vibrant community surrounding them. 

He even glimpsed Dean turning the corner on his bike, his magenta hair an impossible thing to miss, much like the slope of his back or the way his legs bow when he steps up on the pedals to see farther, or to coast along the pathways. Castiel enjoys watching Dean ride and he often catches glimpses of him riding around the village, through the arch and under the trees. 

Claire’s sitting up when Castiel comes back to the living room. Pug fell asleep when they left the cafe and after Castiel tucked him into bed, he changed into his sweatpants and an old t-shirt and his bare feet are cold on the hardwood. Coming home to find her is a surprise, the lack of communication from Jimmy made him think she wasn’t coming and he was even hopeful they had had a good week. 

“Uncle? You’re home?” Claire’s sleepy voice softens Castiel’s shoulders. “Sorry I fell asleep.” She sniffles and looks down at something Castiel can’t see. “I know I usually come over on Saturday but I had a fight with my dad tonight.” The way her voice wobbles has Castiel crossing the room in an instant. 

It’s been a long time since Claire’s been brought to tears over a fight with Jimmy and this combined with the silence from his brother has Castiel’s heart beating fast in his chest with concern.He comes around the couch and tries to ignore the coffee table and floor below littered with balled up tissues as he takes the empty cushion next to his niece, sighing when she turns straight into his open embrace. “Claire bear,” he murmurs, hand resting on her hair. 

Claire’s shoulders shake. 

Castiel can only rub circles into her back until she runs out of tears. Castiel has no idea what could have happened between Claire and Jimmy, but every moment that passes has Castiel’s blood warming with anger at his brother and his carelessness. 

Soon, Claire is reduced to hiccups and Castiel rises to get her a glass of cold water, which she accepts with a grateful smile. “Sorry about your shirt,” she says with a sniff and for the first time, Castiel notices the wet patch on his chest.

He waves it off. “Are you okay? If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to,” he assures her. “I think I have some ice cream in the freezer, if that might help?” 

Castiel isn’t great at this and Claire takes notice, huffing out a wet laugh. “It’s okay, can we talk about it later? I just want—would you mind if I just went to bed?” She looks at him with big wet eyes. “I just want to sleep.” 

“Would you like me to bring you a cup of tea? I have a lavender chamomile from Donna’s that might help you relax.” 

She gives him a weak smile and a small nod and Castiel pulls her close again for another hug, her hair like silk under his palm. His heart is beating out protective vibes all over the place, he can’t help it, especially when Claire takes a deep breath in his arms to calm herself down. 

“Thanks, Uncle,” Claire says softly as she pulls away and stands, shouldering her bag and flicking her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. Castiel stands as she makes her way towards the bedrooms, passing Pug’s door on the left and slipping right inside the second and closing it behind her.

Castiel releases the giant sigh that’s been brewing inside his chest, the one he’s been choking back since he got home. He busies himself with making a pot of tea, letting the water run a bit before he fills his kettle enough for a cup for Claire and a few for himself. While the water boils, he makes some tea bags with loose tea and preps a cup for Claire and a tray for the pot, all the while talking himself out of calling for a taxi to take him uptown. 

He could very easily pound on Jimmy’s front door and demand to be let in, to confront his brother and shake him, make him see what an amazing daughter he has, if only he would open his eyes. Jimmy’s always been one to be nearsighted, too goal oriented and competitive to slow down and appreciate things as they are. No, Castiel’s twin has always been dissatisfied with his life, with Castiel as his built-in partner, and now, it seems he’s unhappy even with the life he has built for himself. 

Maybe he needs to hear the truth and maybe Castiel’s the one that needs to tell him.

It’s impulsive and stupid and Castiel’s pulling on his coat when the screaming kettle yanks him back to reality, the noise loud and filling the kitchen. The threat of waking Pug and disturbing Claire further has Castiel rushing to remove the teapot from the burner, his trench coat forgotten across the back of the couch. 

Instead of leaving, he pours two cups of tea and lets them steep while he gathers Pug’s favorite blanket and then the sleeping piglet himself, only stopping back in the kitchen to pick up a mug before knocking softly on Claire’s door. 

Claire opens it, the lights off behind her, except for the orange glow of her salt lamp. She makes a soft noise in her throat at the sight of the sleeping pig and she gathers him up and the blanket he’s wrapped in, letting Castiel inside as she goes back to her bed. He places the mug on her nightstand as she crawls in and situates herself and Pug. 

His uncle had this room filled with books and Castiel could see no reason why Claire couldn’t have her own room here, just in case she needed a quiet place to study and for reasons such as these, unfortunately. She’s made this space her own and Castiel can only hope she finds solace here.

“Goodnight, Claire.” One last look confirms all his charges are well, Pug already burrowing into Claire’s blankets as Claire herself takes the mug in her hands with a grateful smile. Castiel closes her door with a click and another sigh, before he takes himself back to the couch where he sits heavily, the fight inside him all but gone now. 

He’s frustrated, but he has to wait, he has to give Claire time to talk to him and, despite his irritation, he’s rational enough to know that Jimmy deserves the benefit of the doubt. Somewhat. Probably not as much as Castiel’s allowing, but enough to give him pause. He checks his phone for a message or an email, anything that shows his brothers concern and Castiel’s disappointment mounts when he sees no new notifications. 

Castiel sends a quick text notifying his brother that Claire is safe and shuts his phone off for the rest of the night. 

He picks up his book to distract himself, opening the latest Rainbow Rowell, a continuation of her Carry On series; a story between a gay vampire and his boyfriend, a wizard. Castiel loves seeing the influx of representation in literature, and the acceptance of Young Adult books as mainstream media is a thrill to him as a librarian and a fan of literature. The old writer inside him even stirs at the idea.

It's exactly what he needed tonight. 

Castiel falls asleep with his book on his chest and he sleeps hard, hard enough that only the living room filling with warm light wakes him, his eyes opening to watch it filter through the leaves of his plants that hang around the large picture window that takes up his living room. It points out over the store and the street and the leafy treetops obscure the view but are quite pleasant to watch sway in the morning breeze. 

Stretching lazily, Castiel takes in the quiet of the morning, the street below silent except for a faint strain of rock music Castiel thinks he can hear. His watch tells him it’s no later than six and he lets the ripple of the leaves help him drift back to sleep. He wakes to a bright room and a wet nose in the palm of his hand, Pug snuffling into it and judging by the light, probably in need of a walk. 

If Claire just let him out of her room, she must not be ready to talk. 

Castiel spends Saturday giving Claire her space as he works through his emails, as he updates his spreadsheets and makes a list of books to find for next week. He makes them sandwiches and sees Claire when she accepts hers with a small smile and red-rimmed eyes but still, silence.

He goes to bed that night thinking about breakfast and a plan to draw Claire out of her room with chocolate chip waffles in the morning. 

Much to his satisfaction, it works. Castiel’s flipping the last waffle when Claire shuffles into the kitchen, wearing one of Jimmy’s blue and white striped dress shirts as pajamas with some sweats, her hair in a top knot. The shirt brushes her knees and her feet are bare and it reminds Castiel of how young she still is, despite what she may think. 

His mind drifts to the simple,  _ Thank you _ , he received from Jimmy yesterday afternoon. 

The French press of coffee Castiel prepared in anticipation Claire would join him is ready and he pours her a cup, sliding it in front of her where she sits at the island. She smiles gratefully as Castiel turns back to the stove to plate some waffles. 

“Uncle, I—” 

“I thought we’d take Pug to the park today, what do you think?” Castiel talks over what sounds like an apology he doesn’t need. “On Sunday there's a farmers market I’ve been wanting to see. Don’t you think that would be nice?”

Claire’s gratitude is written all over her face at Castiel’s suggestion and she gives him a gentle smile. “Can I take a shower before we go?” 

He hands over the plate. “We’ll be ready and waiting,” he tells her softly. 

It’s a chore, of course, to wrestle Pug into a onesie covered in rainbows, his pink harness following after another five minutes of coaxing. Castiel makes sure he has a roll of poo bags and he’s slipping on his tennis shoes when Claire comes out of her room, fresh faced and as ready to face the day as she can be. At least the redness has left her eyes. 

They couldn’t ask for a better day as they walk to the park, the sun high above, the morning almost over. Pug takes his time getting them there, his goal to sniff every flower between here and the farmers market. Castiel doesn’t mind because it makes Claire stop frowning and take photos of him with her phone. The street performer isn’t in his usual spot but Castiel barely notices because they’re approaching their destination. 

The farmers market is bustling. White canopy’s line the large pathway that goes down the middle of the park, vendor tables set up under each one, the banners for their businesses flapping in the breeze. The fountain is full of people along the edge and inside, that being one of the fountain’s biggest draws, the city not caring if people use it to cool down. Castiel has never gone in, always content with sitting on the edge and watching.

Around the outside of the fountain, people have small tables set up where they play cards or chess, some with small dogs at their feet. Kids run by with balloons tied to their wrists and teenagers walk around in clumps and for the first time, Castiel wonders why Claire doesn’t seem to have many friends her own age.

“You know, if you ever wanted to bring a friend over, you could,” he comments lightly as they pass two young men holding hands and heading towards the arch. 

“Like a boyfriend?” Claire sounds suspicious. 

“Like… any person you might want to bring over,” he says, hiding any implication with faux exasperation. “A friend, whoever.”

“What about you?” 

Well, this certainly isn’t about him. “I’m doing fine.”

“Pug is your only friend.”

Castiel covers his embarrassment at the reality of Claire’s teasing by scoffing and shaking his head as they approach the first vendor and he takes advantage of the opportunity to drop the subject.

They reach the first covered stall, a honey stand, much to Castiel’s delight. A lumberjack of a man stands in front of a brightly decorated banner,  _ The Father of Honey _ painted in a round script amongst black honeycomb and bright, honey hued drips and splashes of color. He’s talking to another customer so they look over the many different flavors of honey, Claire eventually wandering over to the next table with Pug when Castiel gets caught up reading a pamphlet about urban beekeeping. 

“Got some interest in keeping bees?” 

Castiel looks up to find himself alone at the booth now, its owner standing in front of him, a warm smile on his bearded face. He shakes his head and puts the flier down. “I was just taking a look.” 

“Well please, don’t let me stop you.” The man leans down and pulls out a black canvas bag, his logo printed on the side. “Been legalized about ten years now. All the flavors you see here come from my own hives in the area.” He grabs a few leaflets, the pamphlet Castiel was reading, a sample pot of honey with a small honey dipper attached by a black ribbon and places it all inside before presenting the bag to Castiel. “I’m here, same place every week, case you have questions.” 

Castiel blinks at the man’s kindness before he takes the bag being offered. “Thank you... mister...,” he trails off, realizing the man never gave Castiel his name. 

“Oh, Cain.” He sticks his hand out. “Father of Honey.” He gestures with his thumb over his finger, in case Castiel missed the creative sign. His booth has gotten busy again and he excuses himself for paying customers. Castiel wants to come back and buy honey before they go home. 

He finds Claire a few tables down, talking to a few newly familiar faces. Donna’s wife Jody sits behind a table covered with a black velvet cloth, beautiful handmade necklaces and bracelets displayed on top. Little hand lettered cards advertise prices and a small, framed placard announces  _ Jewels by Jody  _ in a delicate font and dripping with hand drawn jewels that almost glint in the light. 

She shares a canopy with a larger table, adorned with a banner that matches the logo of Donna’s shop, Alex sitting behind it and talking to Claire animatedly. Pug sits on his rump at her feet while a small child with tight black curls and matching chocolate eyes pets him on the head. They both look happy to be there while the child’s parents buy something from the stand across the way. 

Part of Castiel just wants to sit back and continue to watch it all unfold, right out of the pages of a story. He’s loathe to interrupt because Claire is smiling the first genuine smile Castiel’s seen from her since earlier in the week and much like the afternoon sun, Claire shines. 

Pug has other plans for him, once the child petting him returns to her parents and he sees Castiel standing there. He tries his hardest to hustle over to Castiel but is stopped short by the length of his leash, the tug alerting Claire to his attempt which she ignores once she sees its Castiel Pug is trying to get to. He strains against the leash until Castiel steps forward and picks him up, and then there’s a wet nose in the crook of his neck saying hello. 

“Hello, my little man,” Castiel coos back, placing a small kiss to the top of Pug’s head. 

“Good afternoon,” he greets Jody, giving her a small wave. “How is everyone today? I see you met my niece, Claire?”

“She’s as lovely as you described,” Jody says, beaming up at him. She gestures over to the two girls, still ignoring the adults. “Looks like those two made fast friends.” 

Castiel hopes so. Upon meeting Alex the night before, he learned that she was in her first year at NYU, studying for her degree in Public Health, her minor in nutrition and wellness, if Castiel remembers right. She impressed Castiel with her sharp humor and maturity as she worked the night shift at the cafe while her moms were enjoying a night off and a puzzle when Castiel arrived. 

He nods with a hopeful glance in their direction before looking over Jody’s table. “These are all lovely, you didn’t mention you made jewelry.”

“Oh, it’s just a little hobby. Donna bakes, I make jewelry.” She straightens the feather charm of a beaded bracelet in front of her. All of Jody’s creations are very bohemian, all bright colors with silver and turquoise accents. “You guys doing anything exciting today?”

He holds up the canvas bag from Cain. “You’re looking at it.” 

Jody seems thrilled. “Is this your first time visiting our little farmers market?”

Before he can answer, Pug wiggles to be put down. Castiel obliges the little pig while Jody laughs and they watch him try to run across the way, once again hindered by his leash. He turns around and makes himself busy trying to entice Claire to pick him up next.

“It is. I’ve been meaning to come down since I moved, but life’s been quite hectic.” His gaze turns fond as he watches Claire lean towards Alex so she can give Pug a pet. “I think we all needed a break.” 

Jody nods like she understands and Castiel considers that she’s probably well versed in the intricacies of raising a teenager daughter. “It’s a great way to spend the afternoon, I can promise you that.” 

She goes on to detail the layout of the market for Castiel with much enthusiasm. The main thoroughfare they’re on now has all the specialty vendors, booths like hers with jewelry, clothing, and handbags, but according to Jody, the grocery stalls are all further into the park, past the area where the artists and performers are set up. 

“Make sure you stop by Garth’s, he runs our co-op, have you signed up yet?” She peers at him curiously.

Castiel doesn’t even know what she’s talking about and his face must give it away.

“Ah, first timer, huh? That’s fine!” Her warm smile takes the edge off Castiel’s anxiety over his own ignorance. “Garth  _ loves _ newbies, I’ll tell him to keep an eye out for y’all.” 

“What does he look like, so I can as well?”

Jody laughs. “Oh, you won’t have any trouble missing Garth.” 

Before Castiel can get her to elaborate further, an elderly woman approaches the table to browse, and Jody’s attention shifts to her potential future sale. She gives Castiel a quick smile as he excuses himself, but not before mentioning how much his sister  _ loves _ Jody’s jewelry to his fellow patron, giving Jody a conspiratorial wink as he goes to collect Claire and Pug. Castiel can already hear the woman asking Jody to gift wrap a necklace and he smiles to himself. 

Claire and Alex are exchanging numbers when Castiel turns towards them and he gives Alex a polite nod as the girls say goodbye. Claire links her arm in his after she puts Pug down to walk and he remains quiet, content to let Claire's mood continue without disruption. 

They take their time browsing the retail booths and spend a considerable amount of time at a pet stand, its owner delighted when Pug takes an interest in her tiny, handmade clothes for small dogs. They end up taking home a bright green ruffled dress, a black onesie with  _ Sassy Pants _ written on it in bright pink, and a new glittery purple harness. Pug planted himself and refused to move until he was wearing it and Castiel can admit, it looks quite dashing, the way it sparkles in the sun as he trots happily in front of them, tail whipping. 

All of them are smiling when they get to a part of the market that’s much more boisterous and a lot less formal and Castiel realizes this must be what Jody meant when she told them about the layout and yes, Castiel can see that the performer who is usually set up at the entrance of the park has moved here with his guitar. Pug goes to sniff his hello and he acknowledges them with a nod before continuing his show for the small group that's formed. 

The song changes into something with a spirited beat and the crowd laughs when Pug starts jumping around in response.

"Look Uncle, I told you he likes to dance," Claire says around a laugh. 

Castiel doesn't think the day could improve from here as they continue to make their way to the grocery section, the wonderful, positive energy of the park making him feel full and content. 

He's mentally compiling a shopping list of fresh vegetables he wants to keep an eye out for when a very animated, very  _ familiar  _ laugh catches him off guard and makes Castiel’s stomach flip like it always does as he looks up to find— 

Dean.

Who is already staring at Castiel, a surprised but delighted look written all over his face. 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean's hair is bright pink today. 

Pug yanks on his leash the second he notices Dean and it's what breaks the staring contest they are having in the middle of the crowded farmer’s market. 

Castiel lets go of the leash when Dean drops to one knee, throwing his head back in laughter as Pug hustles himself over to be scooped right into Dean's arms without hesitation. Dean stands as Pug presses his hooves to his chest so he can nose at Dean's neck, much like the way he greets Castiel. 

It makes Dean laugh again and Castiel can't stop watching them. 

He takes in Dean’s grey shirt with the letters AC and DC across the chest, under a purple flannel with the sleeves rolled up, down to his black ripped jeans and combat boots. He’s a splotch of color from head to toe. It might be alarming if Dean’s smile didn’t disarm Castiel in a way he never expects, every time it happens. 

It happens more than Castiel cares to admit. 

“Hey, is this the cute book guy with the pig?” A short man with long, blonde hair cut in a peculiar way pops out from behind Dean, an inquisitive but slick grin on his face. 

Dean rolls his eyes and turns to shove the guy away, Pug safely in the crook of one arm. “Shut up, man,” he says with a laugh. He’s shaking his head when he turns back to Castiel. “This is Ash, he has no manners.” 

Ash comes around to squint at Pug who takes a deep, snorting inhale through his snout in response, making Ash laugh and shake his head. “Never knew anyone with a pet pig before.” 

He’s already walking away from them before Castiel can reply, not that he knows what he should say in response to being called… what he called him. Claire didn’t seem to miss it, if the way she’s rocking on her heels in amusement is any indication. 

“Sorry about him.” Dean raises his eyebrows as if he can’t be held responsible for his friend. His eyes flick over to Claire and Castiel realizes they have never been properly introduced. 

He clears his throat. “This is my niece Claire, I’ve told you about her?” 

Claire gives Castiel a look like he’s grown another head as she steps forward to shake Dean’s hand and scoop Pug away at the same time. “Nice to finally meet you, Dean. Pug here,” she looks pointedly at Castiel, “won’t stop talking about you.” 

That makes Dean laugh. “I was just about to say the same thing.” 

Castiel swears something must be in the air because he keeps needing to clear his throat, much to the amusement of the two in front of him. 

“Need some water, Uncle?” Claire asks, innocent as ever. 

Dean laughs when Castiel scowls. “No, thank you.” He looks at Dean with tired eyes. “Now I must be the one to apologize.”

It helps Castiel smile when Dean laughs again. “No worries, man, you guys here to shop?” 

Castiel raises his arms and lets the shopping bags hanging there speak for themselves. “And you? Are you and Ash…” he trails off, unsure of Dean and Ash’s relationship and not wanting to offend. Dean’s never mentioned he had a boyfriend but Castiel’s never been one to be able to, quote unquote, “read the room.” And given Dean’s good looks, it makes sense that he'd have a partner. 

That doesn’t mean it’s not disappointing, a feeling Castiel only foolishly allows for a second before he’s pushing it away which is easy to do when Dean’s smiling at him like that. 

“Nah,” he replies, his eyebrows twitching. “We’re sellers.” Dean’s eyes are dancing in the shade of the trees when he turns towards are few tables set up behind him. There’s music playing from behind them, a rock beat that Dean bobs his head to as they approach. 

“Bohemian Rhapsody,” Claire exclaims. “Nice.” 

Dean grins at her and nods along to the beat. “Heck yeah, you like Queen?” He does a little swishing motion with his hand like he’s pretending to play the guitar and he laughs when Claire dances Pug around in her arms to the dramatic swoops of the music. 

The beat changes and Dean and Claire both straighten and pretend to sing and Castiel has no idea what’s happening when even Ash joins in on their impromptu sing-along. 

Castiel can’t help but laugh at the craziness of the moment, especially when they all start to do a crazy head banging motion for a brief moment until gazes are caught and they’re all high-fiving. Claire looks so happy, laughing at Dean’s antics and something catches in Castiel’s throat, thickening when Dean leans in to tickle Pug under his chin before turning his delighted gaze in Castiel’s direction as the music fades into another song. 

“You got a pretty cool niece here, buddy,” he says, motioning Castiel over to the table he stepped behind before their spontaneous performance. There’s brightly colored canvases of all shapes and sizes propped in front and behind his table and next to him, Ash stands behind a table filled with what looks like a little of everything; baseball cards, coins, bar signs, a few stacks of books and what looks like hubcaps stacked on the ground below. There’s a rolling rack behind him with a mishmash of clothes and blankets hanging from it. 

His sign advertises antique junk in a graffiti font, written in bold and bright colors, a brick wall spray painted into the background.

Beyond them, a young woman stands, arms crossed over her chest, blond hair in a messy top knot and a clear look of annoyance on her face. She’s glaring at Dean and Ash from behind a large table covered with crates, the sign below advertising  _ Vinyl 5 for $20  _ and  _ Trade Ins Accepted! _ In a blocky, electric pink font. 

Castiel turns back to Dean with a curious look but Dean’s staring at him already, a small smile on his face. It turns cheeky when he realizes Castiel’s looking at him and he snaps into introductions.

Claire huffs out a laugh beside him that Castiel chooses to ignore. 

“All the way down there, the angry one, that’s Jo and those are her records.” Dean nods at her and she flips him off in response before turning her attention to one of the crates. Castiel wonders what she’s so mad about. 

“Ash here’s the village collector.” Dean throws an arm around the small man who grins at Castiel proudly. “You need anything weird, Ash is your man. Dude’s a literal genius with computers too.” 

“Dean’s a fan,” he replies as he steps out from under Dean’s arm. 

“Hell yeah I am.” Dean nods to drive the point home. 

Ash shakes his head and smirks. “I’m gonna go see what Jo’s problem is—watch my shit yeah?”

Dean waves him off and Castiel again wonders what their relationship is, he can’t help it, the fondness in Dean’s eyes clear even to him so maybe he  _ should _ try to read the room, just this once. 

Claire has other plans, it seems and she asks without preamble, “Is he your boyfriend?” 

Castiel winces at Claire’s bluntness and will not admit to his burning curiosity at what will come out of Dean’s mouth next.

Dean replies by laughing so hard, it bends him in half. 

“No, ha,” he cackles, “Roommates, practically brothers. Jo too.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, Ash always gets a kick out of this when it happens.” 

Claire raises an eyebrow. “Happens a lot, does it?” 

“Okay,” Castiel claps his hands and steps forward to take Pug from Claire, who’s been happily sitting and watching their exchange while he chews on the end of Claire’s braid. “You didn’t tell us about this art.” 

At Castiel’s mention, Dean’s entire persona changes. He stands straighter, taller, fierce pride shining in pools of green. He doesn’t downplay the wide grin that turns the corners of his eyes crinkly. “This is my art, sell here every Sunday, right next to these two knuckleheads.” He leans towards Claire as if to let her in on a secret. Castiel leans a fraction of an inch closer and the corner of Dean’s mouth twitches. “Who—again, are my roommates.” 

Claire looks over at the two who are standing together, Jo trying to take away the records Ash is pulling out of crates. “Are they—” 

“Claire,” Castiel warns as Dean laughs. 

“You sure ask a lot of questions.” 

“I’m young and inquisitive.”

“That so?” Dean stops Castiel with a shake of his head when he tries to interrupt.” Well, all I can tell you is, that’s complicated.” 

“And that’s more than she deserves to know,” Castiel finishes for him, turning a sharp eye on Claire. She looks back sheepishly and mouths a  _ sorry _ at him which takes the annoyance right out of him. “Can you please take Pug over to the grass to see if he has to do his business? He’s squirming a bit too much for my liking.” Castiel fishes the waste bags from his pocket and hands them over to Claire, who seems relieved to have a task. 

She’s a safe distance away when Castiel sighs and turns to a smirking Dean. 

“Like I said, cute kid.” He ticks his fingers. “Cute pig, cute niece, cute… books?” 

Dean’s teasing brings the heat into Castiel’s cheeks and he huffs out a laugh. “So, you’re a dog walking artist?” 

He’s desperate for a subject change and Dean shows him mercy. 

“Slash bike messenger, slash bar back, slash whatever will get my bills paid.” Dean runs a hand absentmindedly through his hair and his waves move around his fingers like they were petals of a pink rose and Castiel can’t help but wonder if Dean’s hair feels as silky between his fingers. 

“That must keep you quite busy,” Castiel murmurs.

“Sure does,” Dean replies cheerfully. He spreads his hands. “Like what you see?”

Castiel blinks at him as his brain tries to wrap itself around Dean’s question, his intent being—what exactly? 

Dean’s eyebrows fly up as Castiel panics and he looks down at his art and with rapid realization, Castiel understands what he meant. Dean wants to know if Castiel likes his art and without hesitation, he nods as he takes a step back to take it in, now that he’s aware it all came from Dean’s hand. He doesn’t mind the extra time granted when Dean steps away to talk to someone looking at Ash’s table. 

All of Dean’s art is impressive. He uses many mediums to achieve his finished product from oil to acrylic to mosaic and it’s all absolutely  _ lovely, _ pure color and emotion. Each canvas evokes a different sensation when Castiel looks at it, sharp sketches painted in watercolors, one shade bleeding into the next in dripping valleys of passion or sadness, depending on the way Dean makes the paint come together. 

The drawings are outstanding, Castiel recognizing things like the New York City skyline and the Washington Square Arch; all prints tourists might want to buy if they pass through the market. On the table are smaller sketches, fun things like squirrels wearing flannels and a scene that looks like a pathway in the park after a rainstorm, all dark blues and greys, sorrow etched into canvas. 

He sees a particularly lovely canvas with a large, black muscle car against a gorgeous pink and purple sunset. It gives him the urge to feel the wind in his hair and leather under his hands, sun in his eyes. He wonders how much Dean is asking for the print, not seeing a price tag.

Castiel’s heart lifts more when he notices a picture of a pirate ship and even a web, much like the pin gifted to him. It’s the picture of the small, smiling pig behind a swirling blue background (which looks much too familiar for it to be a coincidence) that makes Castiel have to seek out Dean because somehow, he thinks he’ll get the confirmation he’s looking for, that these paintings are because of them.

When Castiel looks up, he finds Dean standing at the border between the two tables, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Castiel examine his art and the look on his face is everything Castiel was hoping for.

Castiel blinks and that expression is gone as Dean’s study of him ends. He strides back over to Castiel just as Claire comes back with Pug and shoves his leash into Castiel’s hand. 

“Uncle, can we go to the market now? I think Pug’s getting hungry.” 

Castiel and Dean look at their watches simultaneously. 

“It’s lunchtime, that’s why.” 

“Little dude wants to get his grub on.” Dean looks at Castiel like he’s noticing what he’s wearing for the first time. Or—not wearing. He frowns. “No coat today. Did you still bring lunch?”

Castiel sighs. The weather is nice so Castiel opted out of wearing his trench coat, instead trading it for a royal blue pullover and some black slacks, prepared with a grey t-shirt underneath, in case the weather warmed. It’s comfortable, but without his trench coat, Castiel has limited space to carry things Pug might need, like his lunch container.

He doesn’t like that Dean’s frowning as if he’s having the same thoughts and Castiel glowers up at the sun piercing through the branches above. 

“As the days get warmer, I’ll need it less and less,” Castiel confesses, ignoring Claire huffing beside him. “I was hoping to find him a snack once we got to the market stalls.”

Dean bites his lip. “Okay, give me a minute.” He looks around to make sure he has no incoming customers before he’s taking a few steps towards Jo’s table, a piercing whistle leaving his mouth that makes Ash turn and jog towards him. 

As the two men talk, Jo finally notices Castiel and Claire standing there, Pug sniffing the ground around Ash’s hubcaps. She stares at them curiously but with less hostility, which Castiel is glad for, at least for her sake (and blood pressure). 

Dean joins them with an easy smile and he casually takes the leash from him, his fingertips brushing over the back of Castiel’s hand, their roughness making Castiel shiver. “All right, let’s get this big guy fed.”

It takes Castiel a moment to realize that Dean’s joining them. Claire’s eyebrows are in her hairline too and Dean must not notice them because he just starts walking, Pug trotting a few steps in front of him. He’s gesturing towards a small winding path. 

“Children’s fair is down there, they have—” When Dean notices the way they’re both staring at him, his mouth closes with a snap. “What? Somethin’ on my face?” He pats it and Castiel can’t help but huff out a laugh and shake his head as an amused smile spreads over Dean’s face.

“I didn’t think you could leave your table.” Castiel glances at him as Dean looks back at his art getting smaller as they walk away. “Yeah, nah, Ash’s got it. Thought it might be time for me to take a break anyway.” He tilts his head when he glances back at Castiel. “You guys don’t mind me walkin’ with you, right?” 

Castiel can’t think of anything he’d mind less and he shakes his head faintly. Dean’s grin brightens and he continues, thumbing over his shoulder. “Like I was sayin’, children’s fair down there, they have face painters and crafts, crap like that.” Dean glances over at Claire. “You’re probably too old for it but Pug here would be real popular with the petting zoo circuit.” 

Pug snorts and flicks his head like he knows it to be true. It’s surreal, walking through the farmers market with Dean guiding them around. He animates everything with his personality, including a personal anecdote about every table they pass as he introduces Castiel and Claire to the neighborhood. 

They stop at a table filled with many different jelly, jams, and preserves and Castiel’s examining all the different jelly on display, while Claire and Dean look at the jams and preserves. Castiel finds jam unsettling, so he stays on this side of the tent, a few jars already set aside to purchase. Pug’s busy tangling himself between Claire and Dean’s legs. 

“Hello!”

Castiel glances away from the three of them to see a young boy with sandy colored hair that hangs in his face, holding a hand up to him in greeting. The boy’s smile is warm and happy and the booth’s banner flaps in the afternoon breeze behind him.  _ Kline Canning and Preserves  _ is painted in an all caps font, a mural of fruits and vegetables artfully drawn around the name of the business. 

“Welcome to our booth, do you have any questions?”

Before Castiel can ask him one about the jalapeno jelly, a hand clasps his shoulder. 

“Hey there Jack, your mom around?” Dean joins Castiel by his side, Pug underfoot, Claire bringing up the rear with a few jars in her arms for purchase. 

The boy—Jack—brightens. “Dean. It’s nice to see you again.”

“You see me every weekend, kid.” 

“And every other Thursday when you deliver our dog food.” He smiles, friendly and open. “It’s still very nice to see you. And I like your hair today.”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Thanks. It’s good to see you too.” He looks around their tent. “Your mom here today?” 

“She was, but we ran out of a few flavors early, so she went home to grab another crate.” He tilts his head and Claire giggles beside him as she leans down to scoop Pug off the floor. “Is that a miniature pig?” 

Dean nods and pats Pug on his head. “This is Pug.” He nods towards Castiel with a twinkle in his eye. “Castiel,” a nudge of his head towards Claire, “And Castiel’s niece Claire.” Dean holds a hand out to present the young man. “This here’s Jack. Him and his mom Kelly own  _ Kline Canning _ and are market regulars.” 

“Very nice to meet you all.” Jack holds his hand out to Castiel and he shakes it, amused at this strange but carefree boy. 

“It’s very nice to meet you too, Jack.” He gestures towards Pug sniffing the air from Claire’s arms. He’s probably starving by now. “Would you like to pet Pug before we make our purchases?” 

Jack nods enthusiastically as he reaches over the table and Claire leans in so they can say hello. Jack laughs when Pug nibbles on the side of his hand which leaves a trail of spit when they pull apart. He grins and rubs his hand clean on the front of his shirt before he rings up a few jars for them, answering Castiel and Claire’s questions knowledgeably while Dean walks Pug over to the closest patch of grass to do his business. 

Castiel’s thankful for the bag Cain gave him when he adds the heavy jars to their small collection of wares. He hopes the grocery stalls have bags for them. He’s worrying about that as he turns absentmindedly towards the grassy area, only to forget all his potential troubles as his gaze drifts up to find Dean squatting in the grass, Pug rooting around in the space between his knees. Pug’s leash dangles from his hand and all of that would be fine except Dean’s staring at Castiel, what must be a residual smile hanging easily on his face. 

As soon as their eyes meet, Dean’s smile widens, his cheeks brightening as he straightens. Castiel’s crossed the walkway and hardly realizes it until Dean steps closer and there isn’t much space between them. Castiel’s close enough to hear Dean click his tongue softly, which makes Pug forget whatever he’s found to sniff and hustle to get to Dean’s side. 

“Dean? Did you teach him that?” Castiel grins, proud and soft, his gaze flicking between Dean’s pleased smile and Pug blinking up at him. “Will you show me?” 

Dean’s already nodding in agreement when a clearing throat behind Castiel startles the three of them out of the moment. 

Claire’s eyebrows are in her hairline and she seems very smug. “Think we could move this along now?” 

At the sound of her voice, Pug trots as far as his leash allows and it gets them all moving; Dean so Pug doesn’t pull and Castiel falling a step behind so Dean doesn’t see the warmth on his cheeks. He avoids Claire’s teasing gaze and together they pass the last of the specialty food stalls, finally reaching the market section. 

Dean slows his steps so Castiel can catch up and match his stride. “Now before we get over to the co-op tent, let me warn you about Garth. He’s a little strange at first but—” 

He’s just about to continue when a particularly lanky man steps in front of him and envelopes Dean in as large a hug as his thin arms can manage, Dean hugging back enthusiastically but still mindful of Pug’s leash as he slaps the man’s back in greeting with his free hand. 

“There he is,” Dean is all smiles and not looking at Garth like he’s someone to be warned against. “How ya doin, man?” 

Garth’s smile is wide and friendly and it gets bigger when he sees Pug at the end of Dean’s leash. “Well, I’m great but not as great as  _ you _ seem to be _ .” _ He squats down and offers a hand out to be sniffed. “Is  _ this _ the famous Pug?” 

Something flutters in Castiel’s chest to learn Dean’s been talking about his pig and he watches Pug sniff with caution before pushing right into Garth’s hands, nibbling and licking at his fingers which makes Garth laugh heartily. 

“This is him,” Dean advises. He extends a hand towards Castiel and Claire. “And that’s his dad, Castiel, and Pug’s cousin, Claire. They’re new to the village.” Hearing Claire’s correct moniker makes Castiel smile and he extends a hand in greeting when Garth stands, face open and friendly. 

Garth shakes his hand with unmatched enthusiasm. “Welcome to our hood, Castiel, we’re sure happy to have you! Have you thought about which co-op you’d like to join?”

Dean rolls his eyes and mimes bopping Garth on top of the head. “Ours, you dolt,” he says, playful exasperation in his voice. 

“Oh, Dean,” Garth shakes his head. “You know that’s not the right thing to do. Castiel should be able to make an informed decision.” He notices Pug pulling on his lead towards Claire who’s looking at the produce at the nearest booth. “Does your friend here want a snack?” 

“He sure does,” Dean answers before Castiel can. He nudges his chin towards the tent. “I’m gonna grab him somethin’ to munch on while you show Cas around. Be gentle, Garth, he’s a newbie.” 

Garth brightens at that word and maybe this is what Dean meant by warning Castiel. Trying to fight back his disappointment from not being able to walk around the stalls with Dean, Castiel tries to focus on what Garth is saying.

“The cool thing about our co-op, Castiel, is that we’re open to the public so if you don’t want to work, you don’t have to! But if you  _ do _ become a member, you’ll get twenty percent off!” 

Castiel has no idea what Garth is talking about and it must show because Garth gives him a toothy, warm smile before he breaks it all down. He learns that Garth runs the 4th Street Food Co-op with his wife Bess and his father-in-law Jim. Meant to be an alternative to grocery stores, they offer fresh fruits and vegetables, everything else locally sourced and most likely organic. All of their food comes from local urban farms and is completely vegetarian, which Castiel knows Claire will enjoy. 

If he’d like to join as a full member, Castiel will have to work a set number of volunteer hours at the co-op or the Sunday market which, looking around, doesn’t seem so bad. Volunteers wear bright red shirts with  _ 4th Street Food Co-Op _ printed across the front and  _ Volunteer _ across the back. They’re all smiling and helping all the people milling around, doing their weekly shopping. 

“There’s a few other co-ops that have booths down the way.” Garth points in the general direction they’ve been going. “Ours is the closest to the village but they all offer unique things.” 

Based on everything he’s seen and heard, Castiel already knows he’d like to join Garth’s co-op, regardless of the other available options.

Plus, it helps to know Dean shops there, a friendly face to put him at ease.

They’ve passed many stalls, all sectioned by type; dark green vegetables, starchy vegetables, roots like potatoes and yams, and even by color, hand-lettered signs explaining everything. Castiel never realized how many vegetables and fruits are the color orange. All the food looks and smells fresh and Castiel’s even more sure of his decision, if this is how Garth runs his business. 

They’re working on Castiel’s membership paperwork when Claire and Dean re-appear, Pug deep asleep in the crook of Dean’s arm, his tiny mouth hanging open and Castiel bets he’s even snoring. Claire’s laughing at something Dean said and nudging him with her elbow and they both light up at the sight of him, much like Castiel bets his face is doing, watching them approach. 

“Uncle! Look at all this stuff we got!” Claire holds up a basket filled with leafy greens and Castiel thinks he sees a pineapple in there? He doesn’t even know how to cut a pineapple. 

He takes the basket with a quirk of his lips and passes it over to a delighted Garth. “Add this to my membership dues, please.” 

“Hell yeah, you’re gonna love working at the co-op, we’ll have to grab a shift together.” Dean flashes a quick, shy smile at Castiel before he looks down at the pig in his arms, rubbing the top of his head softly so as not to wake him. Castiel’s heart can’t settle on one reason to beat so hard, Dean making him dizzy at every turn. 

He clears his throat and hopes he doesn’t sound the way he feels. “I’d like that, Dean.” Castiel reaches out to run his fingers along Pug’s back, his skin warm from the sun. Castiel wonders where his onesie got to while his attention makes the little pig twitch in Dean’s arms and Dean huffs but keeps his eyes on their hands. “How long has he been sleeping?” Castiel lets his voice drop, not wanting to disturb. 

Dean finally looks up at Castiel, green eyes wide, bottom lip firmly clamped between his teeth, the pink skin white where he bites down. It falls free when Dean takes a shuddering breath before he has time to answer. 

“Dean made him a kale salad and he was knocked out before we even got to the fruit section.” 

Claire’s voice yanks Castiel’s attention away from Dean and it’s then he realizes how close they’re standing, hardly any personal space, just them and Pug snoring between them. They both take a step back, Castiel turning towards Claire and choosing to ignore the amused look on her face. 

“I picked out a bunch of stuff to make us a big salad for dinner,” she advises, a small smile still on her face. She talks in detail about the things Dean showed her while Castiel pays Garth and collects their groceries, Dean smiling softly as he listens to her recount their time together. 

A warmth is growing in Castiel’s chest as they head back towards Dean’s table. It’s similar to the feeling that lingers after his interactions with Dean and part of Castiel thinks he should stamp it out now before it gets worse and another part of him thinks he should stoke the fire, see how much of the world he can burn down with it. 

Castiel can see the three tables getting closer and he wants to slow down, he wants to stretch out the seconds between now and when they have to go on without Dean. It’s been such a nice afternoon with him and Claire and Pug, Castiel wishes it could continue. 

There’s more music playing as they get closer and Dean carefully bobs his head to it so as not to rock his arms and disturb Pug, Claire dancing around him with the market bags on her arms. 

“Got a favorite Queen song?” Dean asks her, his eyes bright and dancing with the sway of his hips, his bow legs moving to the rhythm of the beat. 

Claire shrugs and scrunches her nose as she thinks. “Another One Bites the Dust,” she announces and Dean nods his head slowly. 

“The Game, good album,” he tickles Pug’s back as he talks. “Need Your Loving Tonight’s my fav off that one.” 

“I only really know the popular songs,” Claire admits, making Dean laugh.

They go back and forth and Castiel has no idea what they’re talking about. They could be speaking another language, far as he knows. The only band named Queen that comes to mind is one he read about in a book, ages ago; a decent read about an angel and a demon that got along particularly well. He hasn’t read  _ Good Omens _ in quite a few years and mentally adds it to his re-read list. Castiel’s never been interested in music, beyond what one hears in their everyday life and he certainly wouldn’t be able to hold a conversation about his favorite anything on the subject. The radio he owns is never on and when it is, it’s tuned to NPR. 

He busies himself examining Ash’s goods as Claire and Dean talk, noticing a little velvet mat with a variety of enamel pins stuck to it, all familiar to the style of pin Dean’s made him. Castiel assumes Dean made these as well and he touches a rainbow shaped pin lightly with the tip of his finger, admiring the obvious craftsmanship and care that Dean puts into his work. 

“You got a favorite Queen song?” Dean’s teasing tone draws Castiel back to their conversation. He shakes his head as Claire answers for him.

“Uncle Cas likes books, not music. I don’t think his radio’s ever been tuned to the FM dial.” 

Dean wrinkles his nose. “You don’t like music?” 

Castiel shakes his head. It’s not that he doesn’t like music and he certainly doesn’t like the critical eye Dean’s turning on him, almost like when Castiel didn’t get his movie reference, a fact Dean got over pretty quickly. Castiel doesn’t want to add music to the list of things Dean finds weird about him. 

“We grew up without it,” he explains. “My uncle curated books and learning and my brother cared more for television, mostly documentaries, things of the like.” 

Claire rolls her eyes. “Sounds like an exciting place to grow up.” 

“We liked it,” Castiel replies softly. It was different for them, with Chuck. The home was a quiet one, but it was theirs and Castiel didn’t know any other way for it to be, so he doesn’t feel cheated out of anything, given his lack of pop culture references. Castiel doubts Claire has any idea how they were raised so he can forgive her teasing. 

Dean’s watching his reaction and Castiel’s at least pleased to see his scowl gone, a softer expression taking over his face as Castiel explains the way they grew up. He’s smiling at Castiel when he passes him a still sleeping Pug and Castiel wonders if there’s a possibility of long term damage when your heart beats fast for an extended period. 

“Sounds nice and quiet, compared to how I grew up,” Dean states and Castiel expects more, some commiserating maybe but Dean just gives him one of those distractingly bright grins and steps behind his table instead and greets Ash with a funny handshake. It’s a smack and pull of their hands finished by a bump of their fists and Castiel doesn’t think he’s ever done a handshake like that with anyone, or even  _ known _ a person who greets another person that way. It’s an interesting display. Ash passes him some money and Dean turns back, his eyebrows bouncing. 

“Love it when I make money and I’m not even here.” He leans to the side to tuck the folded bills into his back pocket as he looks up at Castiel while he situates the still snoring pig in his arms. “You gonna take that little one home now?” Dean squints against the mid-day sun as he straightens. 

“Gotta get all this food home too, right Uncle?” Claire’s hands are full of bags and Castiel supposes it is time for them to get home, especially since Pug might sleep for another hour and he’d rather not carry him for that long. He also supposes it would be weird to continue to loiter around Dean’s table without good reason.

Castiel nods. “Yes, we should be going.” He tilts his own face towards Dean. “Thank you, for taking time out of your day to give us a tour. We really appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, thanks Dean,” Claire chirps, her attention already turning towards their pathway home, shifting all the bags to one hand. She calls out to him over her shoulder, “See ya later!” as she walks away slowly, checking her phone as she goes. 

Castiel shakes his head slightly and gives Dean an apologetic look that he laughs off. 

“Today was fun, we should definitely do it again sometime.” Dean drops his eyes to his table and Castiel swears his cheeks are almost the same shade as his hair, his freckles popping on the bridge of his nose and cheeks. 

He makes it hard for Castiel to even think before he's stammering out an agreement. "I'd— _ we _ would like that."

Because surely Dean meant for all of them to spend an afternoon together, a repeat of today's activities. He can't mean like a date. Dean doesn't mean like a date. 

Before either of them can recover, Dean still staring a hole into his table and Castiel not sure where the hell to look, Claire calls for Castiel from down the path. 

"Uncle! Come on!" 

Her voice carries enough to startled Pug awake and he flips around in Castiel’s hold, scrambling to get his body right after being asleep belly up in the crook of his arm. 

Dean's laughing at Pugs little legs kicking in the air and Castiel’s warmed by the sound of it, all enough to push them past the awkward moment they just exchanged. 

Pug right in his arms by now, he spots Dean and begins to sniffle and snort, his tail flipping with happiness. Dean leans in at the same time Castiel does, so Pug can say his goodbye too and after one tuck under his chin and a pat on his head, Dean leans back, a pleased smile on his face. 

Pug nuzzles into Castiel’s neck as he and Dean exchange soft nods of farewell. Even as he walks away, Castiel drags his feet because he just doesn’t want to leave. He wants to soak in Dean’s vigor and loud as life energy for as long as he can and it feels like even though seeing him today was a pleasant surprise, it still wasn’t enough.

He chastises himself for these thoughts as he approaches Claire. They’re far too indulgent to continue if he’s going to get through the rest of the day and they still have to have dinner and discuss Claire and Jimmy’s argument. As much as Castiel would like to, he can’t let himself get lost in replaying their day in his mind. 

Almost to Claire, Castiel tries to push his thoughts of Dean out of his head as he runs a hand down Pug’s back, the little pig pushing up into Castiel’s touch. He’s hardly paying attention to the commotion of the remaining shoppers in the park when one voice from behind him stands out amongst the rest, enough to stop his steps. 

“Hey—Cas!”


	8. Chapter 8

“Cas! Hey, wait up.” 

Castiel turns slow, the sound of his nickname rolling off Dean’s tongue making him forget how his legs work. The way Dean says it makes it sound brand new, like it’s the first time Castiel’s ever heard the shortened version of his name. He wants to hear Dean say it again.

Dean jogs up to him, his cheeks flushed and his chest heaving. Grasping Castiel by the shoulder, Dean hunches over, his other hand on his hip as he catches his breath. 

Pug wiggles in Castiel’s arms, happy Dean is back. Castiel is too.

“You walk fast,” Dean huffs, straightening and shaking his head. He beams and takes a deep breath. “I forgot to see if you were free Friday night.” 

Castiel’s pretty sure his heart stops and for a split second he’s angry at himself for not finding the nearest medical center on a map but he wasn’t expecting a health emergency in the middle of the park today. 

“See, it’s Mildred’s birthday, she’s the lady that feeds the birds every day by the fountain? Anyway, she’s having herself a big party, kinda something we do around here.” Dean’s found something interesting to stare at on the ground by their feet because his eyes keep dropping there as he talks. “Big village party, everyone’s invited and I figured maybe you’d wanna come.” He finally turns emerald eyes on Castiel and he’s blinking fast and wearing a hesitant smile. “Meet everyone you didn’t get to see today.” 

Castiel’s mouth falls open slightly as his brain comprehends what Dean’s saying. A neighborhood party? Dean wants him to go?

Stepping in, Claire answers for him. “He’d love to.” Castiel is thankful one of them has it together.

“Yeah?” Dean’s eyes brighten. “Awesome,” he breathes out, his shoulders loosening. “I’ll get you more details before the end of the week.” 

All Castiel can do is nod as Dean grins again and turns back towards his table. “See you guys tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder and Claire’s tugging on Castiel’s opposite side as he watches Dean walk away. He flushes and turns away quickly when Dean looks back at him, his face open and happy. 

Claire huffs when she grabs his full attention by scooping Pug out of his arms and trading Castiel for the bags she’s carrying. Pug is full of wiggles and Claire puts him down so he can trot over to the nearest patch of grass and relieve himself and after Castiel cleans up, he lets them walk ahead as he runs his final conversation with Dean over in his head until he’s _ sure _ Dean meant to invite him as a member of the community. Given the day they spent together, Castiel’s even more confident about considering them friends. It’s clear Dean loves their neighborhood and it’s obvious he’s eager to make Castiel feel welcome, Dean the type to make sure any newcomer feels the same. 

He stays in his thoughts as they arrive home, Castiel busying himself with putting away all the groceries while Claire tends to Pug, setting him up in the living room before she comes and takes out everything he just put away to prepare the salad. 

At least she puts him to work chopping up a head of broccoli before she brings up Dean’s invitation.

“So, what are you going to wear on your date? Do you want me to go shopping with you for something nice?”

Castiel jerks his hand and narrowly misses slicing the tip of his forefinger off. “Claire.” He gets a grip on the knife and steadies himself. “That isn’t what Dean meant.”

“Ugh, I have _ ears _ Uncle, I heard what he said. No one starts a sentence with _ are you free Friday night _ if they aren’t asking another person out on a date.” She flicks her hair out of her face as she rolls her eyes. “Everyone knows that.”

How does his _ teenage niece _know that, is what Castiel wants to know. 

She ignores his pointed look.

“Point is, Dean likes you.” 

“He does not,” Castiel grumbles.

“I knew he would,” she goes on and Castiel tries to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks by focusing on the vegetables he’s chopping. “How could he resist you and Pug, you guys make a really cute pair.” She scoops up the small slices of mandarin oranges she’s been peeling apart as they talk, dumping them into the large wooden salad bowl that sits between them. “Irresistible.”

Castiel huffs out a laugh as he tosses his chopped up broccoli inside the bowl. “Now you’re being ridiculous. Can we focus on our dinner please?” 

“I can multitask.” Claire shrugs. 

He shakes his head and stands to pull out a few plates and glasses for serving. Oh how his niece is incorrigible. She gets it from her father, Castiel has no doubt. “Dean is a friend, Claire, that’s all.” 

Claire pours a vinaigrette made with maple syrup, dijon mustard, and a balsamic vinegar they bought from the Kline’s stand over their salad and it’s sharp, spicy scent fills the kitchen. Mixed with the citrus of the mandarin oranges, it smells delicious. 

“So friends wanna know if you have an opinion on _ kale _ ? Or if you have a certain viewpoint on pie or cake? One or two questions, okay but it was _ what would your uncle think of this _ or _ would your uncle eat that or no. _” She gives the salad a final toss with the salad hands, using them to serve heaping portions of the finished product onto the plates Castiel put out for her. “He was really obsessed with knowing if you prefer red or green apples after I told him they were your favorite.”

He busies himself with pouring them some iced tea and hopes that when he turns back to her, his cheeks are not as red as they feel hot. 

Why would Dean want to know any of those things about him? 

“I didn’t know that last one, but he was already on to the next question anyway.” She raises an eyebrow at him when he turns back and his blush probably isn’t as faded as he hoped. Claire settles on one of the barstools, Castiel on the other. 

“He’s weird.” she deadpans. “You two are perfect for each other.” 

Castiel chooses to ignore that and he takes a bite of his salad, the fresh broccoli crisp and flavorful, the dressing and added cashews a perfect complement to each other. He takes another bite to savor all the flavors as he chews thoughtfully. He casts his eyes at her, wondering what she sees that he doesn’t, especially considering their time together. Is it possible Castiel misconstrued the situation that badly? Or did he just talk himself out of the possibility? 

A tiny curl of excitement hums under his skin and Castiel pushes it down. He can’t allow Claire to pull him into this indulgence, still unsure he wants to compromise his budding friendship with Dean over a matter of interpretation. 

“I’m not weird,” he finally responds, pushing around the remaining food on his plate. “And neither is Dean. And he wasn’t asking me out on a date.” Castiel hopes the finality of his words is a clear sign that he _ really _doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. 

Claire rolls her eyes but gets the hint. “Whatever. Ask him, see what he says.” 

Castiel will _ not. _

Claire laughs at whatever his face is doing. “My dad makes that face too, when he doesn’t like my suggestions.” 

“I know you think he’s always wrong, but sometimes he knows a bad idea when he hears one. It’s a twin thing.” 

“And if anyone wonders where I got my sarcasm…” Claire stands to clear their plates, Castiel chewing his last bite after his smart comment. 

He swallows and grins at her. “You’re welcome.”

She fills the sink with water for the dishes and Castiel pushes her away to take her place. “Let me, you check on your cousin.” He pulls up the sleeves of his sweater to keep them dry and as he adds the soap, he takes a moment to consider his next words. 

“Are you ready to talk about the fight with your dad?”

Claire straightens from where she was hunched over and covering Pug with a blanket, the little pig down for another nap after spending half their dinner rooting around in his blankets. There’s a frown pinching her features together. “Do I have to?” 

That’s a better answer than the flat out _ no _ he was expecting _ . _ Castiel gives her a gentle smile before he plunges his hands into the hot, soapy water, grabbing the first plate he can to wash. 

“Of course not, but it might make you feel better to vent.” 

She stays silent until she joins him, a towel in her hand to help him dry. It’s not until Castiel passes her the first dripping plate and she puts it on the rack, do the floodgates open.

“He’s being unreasonable! First, it was about visiting you in Washington and going to that creative writing workshop at the college, remember?”

Castiel remembers. Claire was so excited when she found the workshop so close to where Castiel lived and his excitement matched at the thought of hosting his niece and introducing her to his home and to his alumni. He’d even helped her present the idea to his brother, figuring that knowing Claire had Castiel’s support and a place to stay, Jimmy would be more willing to allow Claire to go. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong. Jimmy shut the idea down faster than it took them to present and Castiel had received a very angry email about involving himself in Jimmy’s family affairs, an email that Castiel deleted with a roll of his eyes. His brother never listens and his stubborn streak is a mile long. He hates the idea of Claire becoming a writer so he’s doing everything he can to circumvent it and it _ annoys _ Castiel to no end. 

“So fine, he wants me to stay home? NYU has an _ amazing _ Creative Writing program. And they have summer classes! Some of them are abroad but you have to be enrolled but they have one program that doesn’t require enrollment and after you moved here, I thought I could get some information about it you know?” 

Claire’s talking fast and when she isn’t drying a dish, the towel is flicking into the space in front of them with her enthusiasm. She’s like her father in ways Castiel’s sure she doesn’t realize. 

“Well, it got mailed to the house. And he _ freaked, _ Uncle Cas, he pulled me into his _ office _ like I was some client or something and he just went off about you and my future and all _ his _ shit, you know and it was so _ stupid _ , like, can’t he just let me live my life and make my own mistakes and _ really _ just prove him _ wrong _ at this point—” 

She’s full on ranting now, their dishes done. Castiel’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest as she paces in front of him, her face twisted with scorn. 

“He always wants to take away everything I love, he wants me to conform to _ his _ ideas and what _ he _ thinks my future looks like and it’s not _ fair, _ you know and I don’t know what to do about it.” 

Castiel wishes he could fix this, that he could snap his fingers and make all of Claire’s problems disappear while at the same time, giving her everything she needs to succeed. His limitations frustrate him, but Castiel knows the very least he _ can _ do to help.

“Use my address and sign up for the program,” he tells her, his decision made. “I’ll talk to my brother.” 

Claire wheels around to stare at him. “Really? You’d really do that for me?” She looks like she wants to say more and she bites her lip. “He’s not gonna like that.”

He stands up straight and places his hands on Claire’s shoulders. “Let me worry about that. Use my address for anything you need.” He tilts his head and gives her a gentle smile. “You know you have to go home tonight.” 

Her shoulders slump and Castiel lets his hands drop to his sides. He is well aware that he faces Jimmy’s wrath when he finds out about the address thing, but so what? If Castiel can offer Claire the alternative, why shouldn’t he? Talking to his twin is the _ last _ thing he’d like to do but if it’s what Claire needs, he’s willing to do it. Castiel’s willing to do anything for her. 

“Can I take the last train? I just—” 

“It’s fine, I need to email your dad anyway, I’ll explain.” Castiel doesn’t _ want _ to, but he knows his brother and if he’s going to get an opportunity to really talk to him, he will have to make an appointment. He huffs and shakes his head at the ridiculousness of the entire thing but he knows his twin and he knows he needs to go about it Jimmy’s way to start their conversation on the right foot. 

Castiel waits until he gets home from walking Claire to the train before he writes his email, a literal appointment request for a moment of time from a person he shared a womb with. Utterly. Ridiculous. He types out a half apology for sending Claire home on the last train, assuming Jimmy noticed but not sure and deciding to play it safe. 

Two weeks. Jimmy replies by the time Castiel’s teeth are brushed and his dear brother accepts Castiel’s request for an appointment, but he can’t find time for him for two _ weeks _. As obnoxious as that is, Castiel considers it time to formulate his argument. Who knows what the next few weeks are going to look like for Claire and he supposes he can expect a few more sleepovers in her future. 

He attempts to read his book but his thoughts keep wandering first to what he might say to Jimmy and then, back to the farmer’s market and inevitably, his thoughts lead back to Dean. 

Pug snoring faintly in his corner of the room, Castiel replays their time together, from the moment he saw him across the square when Dean’s pink hair made Castiel think of a frosted donut, the sweetness of it something he can remember almost tasting. Their day goes on in Castiel’s head, from Dean’s endearing stories to the way he bonded with Claire from the start and it’s enjoyable, thinking of their day together, of the laughter they shared and the occasional stolen looks.

In his mind, Castiel gets to their goodbye and instead of departing unsure about Dean’s invitation, Castiel’s imagination wakes up and supplies his mind with an alternate ending to their time together. Rather than a vague mention, in this version Dean asks Castiel to go with him, the words in his mind undecipherable but intentional, the rush of happiness Castiel feels very _real_ and not as made up as his fantasy. 

He drifts to sleep just as Dean is pulling a bouquet of daisies from behind his back and when Castiel wakes in the morning, he can only remember the fondness of recalling their day. That doesn’t mean he isn’t nervous about seeing Dean again so soon. 

Claire’s interpretation of Dean’s words bounce around in Castiel’s head all morning; through their entire walk to the fountain and back, and all through giving Pug a bath and then, consequently, having to clean the bathtub and shower. 

If Dean _ did _mean to ask Castiel out, will he act strange when they see each other? Will he smile differently at them or even expect Castiel to act different? He mulls over these questions as he scrubs and sweats and he’s still unsatisfied with all of his conclusions by the time he’s done and the bathroom is sparkling. 

This is why Castiel doesn’t date. 

After a shower, he nervously picks through the clothes in his closet, not sure what look he wants to convey to Dean when he sees him, finally deciding on a pair of worn jeans and a black henley, hoping it’s not too casual but not overdressed either. Scowling at himself in the mirror, Castiel pushes down the stubborn hair that always sticks up in the back, irritated every time it pops back up. He even puts on an old University of Washington baseball cap he has in the closet, pulling it off his head less than ten seconds after he put it on. 

Castiel feels ridiculous. 

Giving that one curl of hair one last glare, he leaves the bathroom only to find Pug at the door, front legs up and his tiny body stretched to its tiny limit in an attempt to what, open it? He slips down when Castiel huffs a laugh and hustles right between his legs, all snuffles and determination to get Castiel out the door. 

It can only mean that Dean’s downstairs, this reaction the only precursor to Pug’s excited behavior. He sits and waits patiently on days when they beat Dean downstairs but most days, it’s this and most days, Castiel doesn’t care but today feels different, his nerves starting to get the best of him. 

Sure enough, after Castiel’s pulled on his coat and locked the door behind him, Dean’s there waiting when Castiel reaches the bottom of the red wooden staircase, and he’s already leaning down on one knee to greet a very excited piglet who wiggled out of Castiel’s arms before the last few steps, which he mostly jumped down. He’s getting braver about the stairs, as the days pass. 

Dean’s hair is slightly faded; less sugary frosting, more the color of the little pig who has climbed into his large hands but maybe that’s just because there aren’t any beams of sunlight infused in it at the moment. 

Dean looks up when he hears Castiel’s footsteps, his smile bright and mesmerizing and Castiel can’t help it when he smiles back as Dean stands. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

It’s all Castiel can think to say. 

Dean takes a step closer, Pug trying to burrow in the crook of his arm. “Heya, Cas.” 

His name sounds new again, coming from Dean’s mouth. Everything else about him is the same, from the way he runs his knuckles down Pug’s back to the way he holds Castiel’s gaze, only breaking their stares by flicking his eyes down to Castiel’s mouth and back up. If Castiel had blinked, he would have missed it. 

Dean hands Pug back to him, the moment passed. Still smiling, he reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket. “How was that salad Claire cooked up? Friend of mine was volunteering and she gave her the recipe while we were shopping.” 

He hands Castiel the plastic cassette tape box he pulled from his jacket and leans over to dig into his back pocket next. “I prefer a good bacon cheeseburger myself—oops,” he ducks his head and huffs. “Present company excluded, of course.” 

Pug sniffs the cassette box before blinking up at Dean, clueless about the meaning of his words. 

“The salad was delicious,” Castiel answers, not sure what’s happening as Dean steps forward to fix a new pin to Castiel’s trench coat. He holds his breath and his heart pounds, Castiel’s gaze following the lovely slope of Dean’s nose, over the freckles that dust his cheeks and the dark one that paints Dean’s bottom lip, next to the faded, pale crease down the middle, the one that always makes Castiel wonder how Dean split his lip in the past to cause the scar. 

Castiel watches Dean’s strong hands affix the pin to his coat and when he lets the lapel go, Castiel bites back a gasp to see the rainbow pin from Ash’s table, now next to his Charlotte’s Web pin. 

“Saw you lookin’ at this one and I figured it might look good with these…” Dean takes a small step back, giving them both a modicum of space to breathe and Castiel has to stop himself from stepping forward and closing it again. “Looks like I was right.” 

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel replies, simply in shock and unable to come up with anything else. He really liked the pin but had no idea that Dean even saw him appreciating it, let alone that he’d want him to have it, to wear with his others. 

“You’re welcome.” Turning towards the small box of clothes Castiel keeps downstairs for Pug’s walks, Dean plucks out the pink hoodie and holds it up. “Kinda cool out today,” he advises. Dean’s wearing a few layers himself; a navy blue canvas jacket covers a grey t-shirt with some kind of graphic hidden underneath. There’s a blue and purple flannel tied around his waist and his tight black jeans have rips at the knees and a splotch of maroon paint on the left shin. Castiel thinks it’s shaped kind of like a heart. 

He’s still holding the cassette tape awkwardly and Dean’s making no move to take it back, instead scooping Pug from him so he can pull the pink hoodie over the piglets head. Dean works in Pugs little front legs one by one, the pig already pushing his hooves through clumsily. He notices the tape and nods at it. “That’s for you too.” 

Castiel looks at him, eyes wide in surprise. First the pin and now this? “What? Why?” He looks down at the plastic box in his hand, finally taking time to actually _ look _ at it having been hesitant until now. The clear plastic case shows off a hand drawn paper insert, another fancy crest drawn on the front in purples and greys and a list of songs on the backside, handwritten in an all caps font, the letters all slanted and round. 

“Didn’t seem right, you not knowing any Queen songs,” Dean says, stepping back into Castiel’s space. His pulse quickens. Pug snuffles the ground between their feet. “See, I put all my favorites.” Dean points at the box and motions with his finger to encourage Castiel to turn back over to the list of songs. There’s a dark silver ring on his finger and two freckles above the curve of his nail and for a man who works with his hands, Dean has incredibly nice cuticles. 

Castiel knows it's a strange thing to notice, but he files it away, anyway. 

Dean taps the list of songs. “You listen to that Cas, and I promise, everything will start making sense.” 

Titles like _ I Want to Break Free, Somebody to Love, _ and _ Don’t Stop Me Now _stand out and Castiel hopes Dean’s right. 

“Listen and let me know what you think, okay?” Dean’s standing too close, not looking at Castiel, his finger dragging along the curved edge of the plastic tape, close but not touching the tip of Castiel’s finger where he holds it. His voice has dropped an octave and its making Castiel dizzy. 

Pug breaks the spell when he pulls himself tight on the leash he’s managed to wrap around their ankles in his time on the ground. They spring apart, Dean tripping with practiced grace while Castiel grabs the counter for stability with his free hand. He lets Dean untangle Pug, knowing the fluster he feels is clear on his face and not wanting Dean to see how he makes Castiel feel, just by being this close. He doesn’t know _ what’s _wrong with him. 

Castiel stammers his way through their goodbyes and they’ve been gone for over five minutes before Castiel realizes he doesn’t own anything that will play the tape Dean gave him. He tells Dean as much the next day and by Wednesday, Dean arrives with a small, handheld cassette player with a pair of black earbuds plugged into it. 

“Walkman,” Dean advises. “You could plug some small speakers into it but I prefer the headphones myself. Better sound.” 

“Dean, I can’t take this, please, it’s too much already and I’ve actually found a few listings on eBay that might pan out…” Castiel trails off, memories of the night before spent scouring the website for the severely outdated technology up for bidding. He should actually check the bidding war with a buyer in Texas he had been trying to outbid all morning. 

“No, come on, it’s no big deal,” Dean puts his hands behind his back when Castiel tries to give back the Walkman. “Ash had one in his storage and it was a nice walk over to it last night.” He grins. “We even stopped for cheeseburgers. No bacon,” he calls over to Pug who is busy ignoring them to bury himself in his blankets. At the sound of Dean’s raised voice, only his snout finds his way out of the folds of blue fabric. He twitches it a few times before burrowing back down. 

“Sounds like a lovely night.” A lovely date night. Ignoring that, Castiel nods in gratitude. “Please tell Ash I send my thanks as well.” 

“Oh, Ash is fine. He got paid.” Dean smirks and then seems to remember something that makes his eyes brighten. “So, Friday!”

Castiel swallows around the sudden lump in his throat at the mention of the night he’s been overthinking all week. He nods as Dean goes on. 

“It’s pretty informal, starts once people get off work, you know?” He squints as he thinks and a stray sunbeam makes his now carnation hair glitter in the light. “Are you back from the Bronx by six?” 

“I can be,” Castiel croaks out, coughing to clear his throat. “I’m usually back between six and seven.” 

“So six thirty then?” He nods his head, his emerald eyes dancing with excitement when Castiel nods. “Awesome. You’re really gonna like this. We block off the big field on the East side, by the Liberal Arts college?” 

Castiel knows it and he keeps nodding. 

“The city is really cool about park events and these people like any excuse to party.” Dean’s eyebrows bounce. “It’s a good time.” His face falls. “Shit—shoot—I forgot but,” he points at Pug. “Can’t bring the little dude, no pets. But there are some parties during the summer afternoons he can go to! Something about the liability at night, I dunno.” Dean shrugs. “That’s not gonna be a problem, right?” 

Dean’s hopeful, shy smile makes Castiel want to move mountains, but he knows he can ask Claire to come over instead. 

“He’s not quite big enough to be alone so I’ll ask Claire to come babysit, not like she probably won’t be here anyway.” 

“Awesome.” Dean holds the leash up, attempting to pull Castiel’s attention away from the light blush across his cheekbones. “Guess we better get going, now that that’s out of the way.” 

Not for the first time, Castiel wishes he could join them on their walk but instead, watches them go feeling more confused about Friday night than ever. Now, he knows what time it starts and where it’s held and the more he thinks about it, the more he’s convinced Dean wants Castiel to meet him there. 

And that’s fine. 

It really is.

»»————- (´･(00)･｀) ————-««

“Claire, please. For the last time, it’s _ fine _.” Castiel rolls his sleeve again, satisfied at the cuff sitting mid forearm. “I’m happy to meet Dean at the party.” 

“It’s rude, Uncle. He totally led you on.” 

Castiel sighs. They’ve been going back and forth since Claire arrived and asked what time Dean was picking Castiel up for their date. He had to give her the news that he was meeting Dean there and he honestly wasn’t expecting the push back. She’d made him replay their conversation for her and according to her, what Dean did was insulting. 

“And you’re sure he _ just _ said, ‘see you later’ when you saw him last?” This is the third time Claire’s asked and for the _ last _ time, he answers. 

“Again, yes,” he says, somewhat impatiently. He’s tired of explaining and checks his watch to see that it’s in fact, six-thirty and in the interest of being mostly on time, he wants to start walking now. A tiny voice in his head argues that _ technically _ , Dean said he’d see him at six-thirty and it’s that tiny voice that won’t _ shut up _ that urges him to clarify for Claire’s input. 

Castiel dismisses the thought and checks his reflection in the mirror that hangs next to the front door for the last time. His hair is behaving, but he gives the back a pre-emptive smooth down for the last time. The cobalt blue of his button down brings out the color of his eyes and a small part of him hopes Dean notices. 

“You’ll call me if you run into any problems?”

“Yes, of course, for the last time,” she answers teasingly. She’s about to say more when a knock at the door makes any words die in her throat. Her eyes light up as Castiel’s heart starts to race, his brain processing. 

There’s another, slower knock. 

“Answer it,” Claire hisses and it snaps Castiel out of his daze. Only fumbling for a moment, he turns the knob and opens the door, revealing a very pleased Dean on the other side. 

All week, his pink hair has faded and this morning when Castiel saw him, Dean was wearing a faded, backwards baseball cap, his hair hidden from sight. Tonight, it’s standing in bright orange spikes, and Castiel swears he can smell citrus in the air around him. 

“Evenin’ Cas.” he says with a dip of his head. Dean glances behind Castiel, sharing his smile. “Claire, how are ya?” 

“Hey, _ Dean _,” Claire replies, cheerful as all get out. “Great to see you. Cool hair.” 

That wakes Castiel up. “Dean? I thought—” 

Castiel’s silenced when Dean turns his attention back to him, while at the same time pulling something out from behind his back. In an instant, Castiel’s daydream flashes through his head of Dean and the flowers and he doesn’t have time to catch the delighted noise that leaves his throat. 

Instead of daisies, Dean’s holding out a single, bright yellow daffodil with a pink satin ribbon tied around its stem. 

The blush he’s wearing matches the ribbon. 

“Thought we could walk together,” Dean says, as Castiel takes the sweet gift from him. Warmth pools in his stomach when their fingers brush during the exchange and he quickly nods. 

“Okay, let me just—” 

“Yeah, you should put that—” 

They’re both talking at once, talking over each other and the unexpected exchange.

Claire steps in and saves them both the embarrassment. “I can put that in water for you, Uncle, if you guys want to get going.” 

Castiel takes a moment to turn away from Dean and press the flower into Claire’s hands, his eyes wide. It doesn’t help that Claire’s clearly mouthing _ date, date, date, _at him, her eyes dancing with excitement. “Have fun,” she says, her voice loud enough to address them both but her eyes glued to Castiel’s. She leans in and drops her voice to a teasing whisper, “On your date.” 

Ignoring her, Castiel gives Dean a small smile when he turns back to him before putting a hand on the open door, inviting Dean to go down the stairs first, needing all the time he can get to calm down. 

Dean brought him a flower. That’s not—Castiel’s never—No one’s ever given him flowers before. It’s such a small thing, a stupid thing really, to think about, but even when he _ was _ dating and in a relationship, none of his partners had ever given Castiel flowers. Then again, Castiel’s never _ given _ anyone flowers either. 

When he looks at Dean, he thinks about changing that. 

It makes heat flush through his body as he follows Dean outside and Castiel’s thankful for the spring evening that greets them, a cool breeze blowing through the trees and down the street. A few dead leaves linger in his small courtyard but Castiel doesn’t see any of it because he’s following Dean into the light and it’s like his hair catches _ fire _ when the falling sun hits it. 

Castiel sucks in a breath and it stops Dean and makes him turn. “What? You okay?” 

Blinking fast, Castiel can’t help but nod at Dean’s hair. “I like this color very much.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean’s mouth curves into a wide smile. “Cool, thanks, kinda hoped you would.” 

They get to the sidewalk and Dean gives Castiel room to walk beside him and it feels like a dream. He must be dreaming. Castiel fully expects to wake up at any moment, to open his eyes to his white ceiling with its wooden ceiling fan turning lazy circles above him. 

It just all seems impossible, even the idea that Castiel’s opinion of Dean’s hair color would be important, let alone considered. No one thinks of Castiel like that. 

Castiel remains awake as they head towards the park, Dean filling the silence with more neighborhood chatter and if Castiel didn’t know any better, he’d think it possible that Dean’s _ nervous. _

Does everything about him have to be so endearing? He learns that Dean’s expecting quite a few people he wants Castiel to meet and it takes all his willpower not to stop walking, to keep putting one foot in front of the other because he knew, well, he _ should have _ known he’d be meeting a lot of new people but in all the time he spent thinking about the intricacies of Dean’s invitation, he forgot to think about how bad he is at this type of thing. 

He always has been. As children, anytime their uncle would take them to meet a new group of people, Jimmy would be the one sticking his hand out for a handshake, while Castiel stayed a step behind, only introducing himself when prompted and always quick to find a way out of the impending conversation. Or worse, compelled to stay and remain silent, never knowing how to contribute. 

It’s something he never grew out of, not really, not even in school, Castiel always the one to sit in the back of the class and end up in the group that just needed one last person. Even when he was dating Inias, he thought they preferred to stay in, until Inias changed his mind about that. About him. 

Not wanting to dredge up those memories tonight, Castiel tries to ignore the curl of trepidation under his skin and for a moment, he wishes he had Pug in his arms.

“Hey, Cas, you okay?” 

The concern in Dean’s voice helps make up for the fact that his little friend isn’t here and Castiel nods, not wanting to concern Dean with his social anxieties. “I’m just not good at remembering people’s names.” 

“Oh, dude, _ same _.” Dean’s stopped them from going any further, the place where people are gathering to enter the party within sight. He looks at Castiel with a grin and his eyes drop, his brow furrowing at something while his hands come up to fix Castiel’s collar. 

Castiel forgets all about his apprehensions when the tips of Dean’s fingertips brush his throat. Dean’s about to say something when a surprised sound leaves his mouth at what he sees and Castiel looks to see Dean examining the rainbow pin Castiel fixed to the pocket of his shirt before he left. 

“It was flipped over so I didn’t see it before,” Dean looks at him with excited eyes. “You like it then.” 

“Very much, Dean,” Castiel answers, eyes still watching Dean’s hands, one pressed to his chest over his heart and the other still holding the tiny pin. He prays Dean can’t feel the way his heart is beating wildly in his chest, but before he can worry too long, Dean drops his hands back down to his sides. 

He ducks his head to catch Castiel’s eyes and Castiel lets his gaze get drawn up, captured by emerald eyes impossible to resist. “Don’t worry about that name thing, buddy,” Dean says, his voice soft and reassuring to Castiel’s still thrumming nerves and heart. “I’ll help with that.” 

Castiel doesn’t know how Dean plans to manage it but he lets himself be comforted by Dean’s words and he squares his shoulders to follow Dean up to the entrance of the party, hoping beyond anything else that he doesn’t somehow embarrass them both with his awkwardness.


	9. Chapter 9

As the two men get nearer, the music and hum of the small crowd grows louder and Castiel’s pulse quickens. One arm out to allow Castiel to precede him, Dean’s grin widens as he greets the man guarding the entrance. He’s a little on the rough side, an older gentleman in a dirt-stained trucker hat and denim overalls, sitting in a lawn chair and flipping through a magazine. There’s a bunch of yellow balloons tied to his chair and swaying in the evening breeze, sunny compared to his cloudy disposition. He gives them a disinterested look as they approach. 

“Evening, Uncle Bobby.” Dean dips his head in greeting, tipping an imaginary hat at him.

Did Dean say uncle?

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Bobby drawls, closing his magazine with a flick of his wrist. “Where ya been boy?” 

Castiel reminds himself that Dean’s most likely going to know everyone here, this first man they encounter no exception, but he had no idea he’d be meeting anyone from Dean’s _ family _ tonight. 

“Been workin’ Bobby, you know how it is,” Dean answers. 

Bobby raises an eyebrow. “Not at the bar, you ain’t.” 

“I thought Ellen hired that college kid to help out.” Dean’s shuffling his feet some and it’s clear to Castiel that Dean doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. 

“Yeah, well, Ellen’s gonna kick your ass regardless for not stoppin’ in.” Bobby accepts Dean’s nod and thankfully, drops the subject when he eyes Castiel. Castiel can feel every sweep of his imploring gaze. “Who’s your friend?”

As nervous as this man makes him, Castiel wants to make a good impression, or at least, make a fair attempt at one. He steps forward and holds out his hand, somewhat proud that it hardly trembles. “Castiel Novak, sir.” 

Bobby stares at him for what feels like an eternity before he leans forward to shake Castiel’s hand. His grip is as firm as his glare and Castiel’s hand is tingling when Bobby releases it. “Pleasure,” he says dryly. 

“Cas here is gonna re-open West End Books, Chuck’s old place?”

“That so?” Bobby gives him another once over, and maybe it's just the fading light but he almost seems interested in Castiel now. 

“Dean also walks my pig,” he blurts out and Bobby slowly raises an eyebrow before he looks at Dean.

“He ain’t lyin’,” Dean replies with a shrug. Castiel doesn’t know how he’s so calm, but then again, Dean’s not the one with his foot in his mouth. He’s seriously considering making his excuses before he can say anything else awkwardly when Dean’s hand pressing against the small of his back has Castiel’s entire brain short circuiting. 

“Fun as this is, we’re gonna head on in. Tell Ellen I’ll come by in the morning, would ya?” 

Bobby hitches a thumb over his shoulder and towards the crowd. “Tell her yourself, she’s in there somewhere with Jody.” He chuckles when Dean’s eyes widen and Dean puts some pressure into his touch to encourage Castiel to get moving. He waves his goodbye clumsily at Bobby and they’re only steps away when Bobby calls out to stop them. 

“Nice carrot sticks,” Bobby says, giving Dean’s hair one last glance with a nod. 

One corner of Dean’s mouth quirks up in response, his prior apprehension forgotten. “Thanks, Bobby. Don’t work too hard.” 

“Never do.” Castiel can hear him mutter as they walk away. He glances at Dean with eyebrows raised and Dean laughs. It eases Castiel’s mind at least. 

“Ah, don’t let that old grouch scare you, he’s all bark. Likes to think he’s some kind of muscle for these things, but he’s just grumpy and anti-social.” 

“And he’s your uncle.” 

“Something like that,” Dean huffs. “Been callin’ him that since I was a kid, anyway.” 

Before he can say more, he’s interrupted by a very excited to see him young woman who pretty much jumps into Dean’s arms before either of them can react. “Dean!” 

Castiel can barely take a step back before Dean’s hands are on her waist and he's helping her back to her own two feet. “Tessa, hey,” he says, as she steadies herself, her face shining up at him. “How are ya?”

“How are _ you, _ stranger?” Her hand slides up Dean’s arm and that’s when Castiel looks away, beyond her where more people are gathered, trying to find _ anything _ else to look at, at least until the earth swallows him whole, like he’s hoping it might. She goes on. “Haven’t had to stitch you up in a while.”

Even Castiel can’t miss the innuendo in her voice. 

“Maybe I’m just getting better at riding my bike,” Dean replies and instead of staying to talk, he takes a big step towards Castiel and then his hand is back, and Castiel relaxes at his returning touch. “We’ll catch up with you later.” 

“Lisa’s here,” she calls out. “Come say hello!” 

Dean throws a hand up to wave in acknowledgement but he leans in and talks to Castiel under his breath. “More like _ hell no,” _he says out of the corner of his mouth. “Nothing but trouble from that corner of the park.”

Castiel tilts his head. “I don’t understand.”

“They’re cool chicks, don’t get me wrong.” Dean rubs the back of his neck as he looks around the crowd. “Just a little _ too _ friendly when they get together and drink. Been kinda keeping my distance so I’m sure they’d like to find out why.” 

Castiel would too. Dean doesn’t elaborate and it adds more questions to Castiel’s ever growing list of things he’d like to know more about. They don’t get an opportunity to talk more because Dean seems to spot whoever he was looking for and they begin to make their way through the crowd. 

Predictably, they don’t get far without being stopped by someone who wants to say hello to Dean which means Dean introducing them to Castiel. He finds he doesn’t mind the intrusions at all because during each one, Dean _ shines _. He knows every single person they cross paths with, greeting them as if they were old friends, sometimes with hugs or a high five, always with the right inquiring questions to make the other person smile and feel special, even if it’s only for a moment or two. 

Everyone who walks away from them walks away smiling and Castiel feels like he knows one more person in the village after each chat.

He meets such a variety of people; Benny and a few of his men, all firemen from the firehouse a few blocks away who invite him and his family to their next pancake breakfast, an event they hold for charity the first Tuesday of every month. Dean confirms it’s a huge turnout and the best pancakes in town and Castiel finds himself excited about attending the next one. 

Dean introduces him to Pamela, who flirts shamelessly with them both (leaving Castiel with red cheeks) and who, Castiel learns, runs the yoga co-op across the park. Castiel also finds out that Tessa from earlier and Linda? Lisa? Whoever she mentioned also work there as teachers at night while during the day, they're nurses at the hospital. According to Dean, Pamela has a wonderful meditation class that he encourages Castiel to attend and she also holds occasional seances out of the space that Castiel thinks he will be avoiding. 

People stand in groups and clumps around high tables scattered about to cater to the mingling citizens. There’s a large group by what Castiel thinks is a bar and where they’re heading is a small rise in the grass where tables covered in yellow tablecloths sit, most of them occupied by people eating and enjoying each other’s company. It’s all very warm and inviting and even the rock music playing underneath it all just adds to the happy atmosphere.

Despite the number of people he’s met and spoken to, Castiel isn’t feeling overwhelmed in the slightest. As they break away from the bigger crowd, he takes a big breath of fresh air, enjoying the cool, spring air in his lungs.

Dean slows his steps. “Doin’ okay?” There’s a hint of concern in Dean’s voice and Castiel can’t help but be slightly flattered

He nods. “Everyone has been so nice, I’m really having a good time.” He smiles, shy now that Dean’s concern is turning into proud satisfaction. 

“Awesome, Cas,” he breathes out before gesturing in the direction they’re heading. They’ve almost reached tables. “Now this next group of ladies are the ones you gotta watch out for,” he advises and Castiel’s so distracted by the sound of Dean saying his name, he almost misses what Dean says. “You know Jody and Ro but Ellen’s already pissed at me so don’t take anything she says personally.” 

Before Castiel can even ask, Dean steps up to the table in question. “Hey y’all, what is a table full of lovely ladies such as yourselves doing at a rager like this?”

Castiel doesn’t expect them all to scoff and jeer at Dean, making him double over in laughter as they try to swat at him, the dark haired woman Castiel doesn’t recognize hitting him the hardest. Dean deflects her swinging hands as he laughs, a sound Castiel grows more fond of each time he hears it. 

“Quit it, Ellen, come on,” Dean begs around his mirth and she appears to be doing her best to hide her grin when Dean straightens and runs a hand through his hair. She looks up at it with eyebrows raised and lips pursed. Dean shrugs and grins. “You can’t stay mad at me.” 

Ellen’s hands go to her hips. “I should whoop your ass for disappearin’ on us.” 

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “Ellen, I live upstairs.” 

“Doesn’t mean I ever see you, boy, and you know it.” 

No one at the table is making any attempt to pretend they aren’t listening to them _ except _ Castiel, who’s staring at the grass between their feet, but really, their discussion is impossible to ignore.

“Will you forgive me if I come over after my walk and finish the clean up tomorrow?” Castiel thinks Dean’s playful nature would be hard to resist and it seems Ellen may agree, given her answer. 

“Stop by Jody’s and pick something up for me on the way first,” she states and Castiel can almost hear Dean smile. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Now introduce me properly to Castiel.” 

Castiel’s head snaps up in surprise. Ellen’s smirking, one hand on her hip, the other held out to him. “Ellen Harvelle, nice to meet you.” 

Castiel shakes her hand, his mouth slightly open and still unable to form words. Dean seems just as surprised when Castiel looks to him for an explanation. 

“Well okay, don’t hurt yourselves,” she admonishes. “You know how people talk and you and your cute little pig are something to talk about. Plus, it’s been a right minute since we’ve had some fresh meat in the neighborhood, ain’t that right ladies?” 

Rowena and Jody hold up their plastic glasses with a, “Yup,” and, “Indeed,” in response to her question. Castiel isn’t sure what to say about that, but before he can put his foot in his mouth, Dean shakes his head at them. 

“Leave Cas alone or he’s not gonna let you pet his cute pig,” he chastises them and no, that’s not right, Castiel would never not let one of them pet Pug, Rowena especially, given their already growing relationship as neighbors. He’s about to correct him when Dean’s dancing green eyes help Castiel realize he’s joking. 

Ellen gestures at the table. “Take a load off Castiel—Dean, get us another round, would ya? I got the new kid over at the booth.” 

Dean rolls his entire body but still asks Castiel what he’d like to drink with a grin. 

“Water, please.” Castiel asks for the easiest thing that comes to mind. Dean just nods with a quick wink and a pat to Castiel’s shoulder before he’s striding off towards the area he pointed out earlier that was for food and drinks. Castiel wishes he could follow but can only trust that Dean’s left him in good hands. 

“So, new guy, Rowena tells us you grew up here? She was pretty tight lipped about everything else, but she usually is, ain’t that right Ro?” Ellen sits in the empty chair next to his neighbor. 

“Aye,” she replies, and Castiel gives her a grateful look. They’ve gotten to know each other in the recent weeks. Castiel will often find himself standing with Rowena and just chatting, their conversation sometimes ending up on rather personal subjects, hours passing without Castiel’s notice. It’s easy to get caught up in her spell and Pug doesn’t mind all the free time to wander between the two patios. Castiel finds Rowena fascinating, with all her stories of living abroad. Sometimes when she speaks of growing up in Scotland, Rowena gives Castiel the impression that she’s hundreds of years old, which is silly but she seems to get a thrill out of confusing him. He’s learning to take it all in stride.

Ellen continues. “She always seems to know everyone’s comings and goings anyway, you can put money on that.” 

Rowena sips her drink with a small, knowing smile. 

“Well, we’re always happy to welcome a new face and it seems like Dean’s taking a liking to ya so, welcome to the village, Castiel.” Ellen toasts him and he nods.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice rough with misuse. Castiel clears his throat. “He’s been very kind to us.”

“That’s Dean for you, always the first to make people feel welcome,” Jody advises knowingly. 

“Our own crazy haired welcome wagon,” Ellen confirms, making the ladies laugh and Castiel looks down at his lap and smiles. It’s no surprise to him that Dean’s this welcoming to everyone, it confirms what he’s suspected about the man all along. Dean is kind hearted, and Castiel’s glad to know him, a sentiment he’s sure he shares with many in attendance. 

The women launch into a shared story about another recent village party and Castiel’s attention wanders to what’s going on around them. His head spins at the amount of people and the stories and experiences they all share, their lives woven together and him, with Pug, standing right on the outside of it all. 

It’s a place Castiel’s all too familiar with. 

Rather than dwell, he sits back and watches the neighborhood partake in the festivities. Off to the left, there’s a makeshift dance floor and Castiel can see Tessa there dancing with another dark haired woman and a bald, dark skinned man. All appear to be enjoying themselves. 

Dusk has settled over the park, infusing the grassy area they occupy with rich, warm, yellow light, the fading beams of light reminiscent of days past in this very park. The only difference is, Castiel doesn’t have a book to bury his nose in until the light dies. He finds he doesn’t mind that he’s without one tonight, especially when his eyes sweep the crowd, only to find Dean in it. 

He’s far away, recognizable by his bright hair and Castiel loses him a few times in the crowd. So intent to seek him out, he barely realizes Garth has joined them, taking the seat next to Castiel with a large grin on his face. Castiel hasn’t seen him since the farmer’s market, but he received his official co-op membership cards in the mail just that morning. 

“Here’s some of my favorite people! How is everyone this fine night?” 

A chorus of greetings from the three women drown out Castiel’s hello, but Garth focuses on him anyway when the ladies go back to their conversation, long past anything Castiel could even hope to understand by now. 

“I’m so happy to see you here, Castiel. I was just thinking of you and little Pug when I put your cards in the mail the other day. You should see them soon,” he advises, bobbing his head as he talks. “And don’t forget, you just need to send me an email about when you want to come work, we can always use the help. You can bring Claire too, if she’s interested.” 

“Yes, I think she’d like that. We’re looking forward to it.” They discussed trying out an upcoming farmer’s market shift to start, matter of fact. 

“Great,” he exclaims and launches into the going ons of the co-op and how it helps to support their community and Castiel tries, oh how he tries to listen and pay attention but it’s hard, because across the park, he’s spotted Dean again and while Castiel was talking to Garth, Dean found him too.

Dean’s staring at him while at the same time, holding a conversation with people Castiel doesn’t recognize. At least Dean’s trying, his mouth creeping into a distracted smile, quirking occasionally as the people around him laugh but never taking his eyes off Castiel. 

When their eyes lock, Castiel swears the light around them sparks and shifts as Dean’s face melts into a dazzling smile. The people with him even look around to see why and Castiel ducks his head and tries not to laugh when Dean’s face turns sheepish. Dean looks reluctant when he breaks their gaze to give his attention to the company he’s in, but it’s obvious he’s trying to get away from the conversation, using the tray with their drinks as an excuse to leave. He keeps raising it and shrugging and casting his eyes at Castiel and it’s so enduring, Castiel doesn't even notice how long it's taking.

Castiel cheers to himself when Dean breaks free, bouncing his eyebrows at Castiel for just a moment before two more people intercept him. The array of reactions Dean’s face goes through is as entertaining as anything Castiel’s seen thus far, from surprise, to terror (he jerked and almost dropped the tray but saved it at the last minute using his natural grace) which turned into cocky pride at his close call, finishing with another look of apology in Castiel’s direction at being stopped again. He has to actually keep the tray out of the reach of these people, the two of them thinking Dean’s out to serve or something and after pointing them towards the food area, Dean wipes his brow dramatically as they walk away.

Dean’s so close, mere feet away and Castiel thinks he’s finally going to make it back to their table after all his hard work and Dean seems to look hopeful too—until _ yet another _ person steps in front of him and Castiel has to clap a hand over his mouth to stop the laugh that tries to escape because Dean looks downright perturbed, until they both realize who it is this time.

Jack Kline greets Dean with a warm smile that Dean can’t help but return and Castiel watches him greet the woman with Jack with a matching grin. Jack takes the tray out of Dean’s hands when he nods towards the group of them and both heads turn to recognize the people waiting for him. 

“Oh—there’s Kelly, I need to talk to her about an extra order of her peach pepper jelly.” Garth cuts himself off mid-sentence when he sees the Kline’s and Castiel sheepishly realizes he has no idea what Garth’s been talking to him about for the last few minutes. It’s incredibly rude but Garth doesn’t seem to mind because he’s still grinning as the three of them approach the table together. 

“Hello all,” Jack greets them first, depositing the tray Dean brought in the middle of the table. The women reach for their drinks; beer for Ellen and Jody and another glass of red wine for Rowena. Dean plucks the clear plastic cup with the lid and straw with what appears to be iced tea from the tray so he can set it front of Castiel. 

“Iced tea, from Donna,” he states. “She said to tell you hi and that it’s peach green.” His grin slips a little. “I know you wanted water and I got that too.” Dean pulls a water bottle from his back pocket. “But I thought you might want a choice, seeing as maybe you didn’t know the options.” 

“That’s very thoughtful, thank you,” Castiel replies, surprise on his face. 

“These guys treat you okay while I was gone? Sorry that took so long but, well, you saw,” he grins. “Everyone wants to chat at these things.” 

“Kinda the point, kiddo,” Ellen teases him from across the table. 

Her words are jarring and the sound of the party around them comes rushing back, the world loud and obtrusive and it turns out, not revolving around the two of them alone like it felt a moment ago, when all of Dean’s attention was focused on him. 

Now he’s leaning over the table towards Ellen to tease her back and the moment has passed but Castiel can’t complain. The comradery of the village and the people around him wraps Castiel in a cocoon of warmth and contentment, a feeling only heightened by Dean’s arrival. But everything kinda feels better when Dean’s around. 

Everyone gets to talking, trading stories for so long, Jack gets up at one point to get them a round of refills. Castiel’s content to listen as Jody tells the story of the day Donna proposed, spontaneously while they were fighting about what color to paint the shop. They let Alex choose, in the end. Ellen tells many stories about her bar, a place a few blocks away called The Roadhouse where she’s the owner and proprietor, her stories as tall as they are long, according to her. By the way she talks, it sounds like all kinds of people have passed through her doors over the years, including his uncle. 

That starts a quick round of memories that include Chuck, much to Castiel’s surprise. All their stories end with the way he started to withdraw from the community, a subject everyone is quick to move on from. 

Castiel listens and tries to follow without knowing the other people involved, laughing when it seems appropriate, and nodding along in agreement and what not as everyone speaks around him. Dean meets his eyes every few moments and Castiel forgets to feel awkward, forgets to feel alone because Dean always looks so pleased to see Castiel there. He wants to memorize the feeling, the rush of receiving Dean’s attention, so when it’s gone, he can think back and remember how nice it was. Castiel has to shake himself free of his melancholy thoughts and he chastises himself and tries to remember to actually _ enjoy _ the moment he’s worrying about forgetting.

Dean’s lovely smile helps. 

Castiel’s surprised he finds it too soon, when people start to stand and leave the table. The Kline’s are the first, Jack’s mother Kelly very kind and charming and now, Castiel can see where Jack gets his pleasant temperament. Garth leaves next, but not until Castiel promises to email him shirt sizes for himself and Claire, Garth having talked Castiel into working at the farmer’s market this weekend, to fill a hole in the schedule. 

“Don’t worry, he’s impossible to say no to,” Dean advises, after Garth finally finishes giving out all his goodbye hugs. “He once got me to work his soup kitchen on _ Thanksgiving _, even though he knows it’s my favorite food holiday.”

Castiel can’t help but grin and file that bit of information away. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” 

The smile he gets in return lights up Dean’s face and warms Castiel’s heart. “It isn’t. Do it every year now.” Coming from most people, that might sound like a brag, but Dean just sounds sincere and it makes Castiel lean closer to him, hoping whatever it is that makes Dean so selfless might be contagious. 

The world could stand more people like him. 

“Maybe you could come with this year,” Dean says lightly, like the answer isn’t a big deal. And maybe it isn’t, but it’s still nice to hope.

“I’d really like that.” Even if it turns out to be a bigger deal to him in the long run, Dean makes Castiel feel brave. 

Whatever Dean’s face is doing, the way his forehead creases as his eyebrows go up in surprise makes Castiel’s stomach flip just as much as it confirms that maybe his hoping wasn’t so fruitless. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Suggestion has filled those emerald eyes and Castiel’s finding it harder and harder to resist falling into them. 

He nods.

Dean hides his smile by rolling his head to the side so he can address the three original occupants of their table, all of whom now seem to be very interested in them. 

“Nice as this has been, it’s time me and Cas get a move on.” He motions towards the glasses in their hands, their third round? Castiel wasn’t counting, but Jack got up more than once while they talked. “Anyone need a top off?” 

Jody smiles wide at both of them, her eyes shining. “I think we can handle it from here, boys.” 

“Sure was nice to meet you, Castiel, even if you’re a quiet one.” Ellen’s tone is teasing. “Don’t worry, Dean will talk enough for the both of ya, ain’t that right boy?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean teases her back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stands, and Castiel follows, nodding at Ellen. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” He dips his head at Jody and Rowena as well. “Nice to see you both.”

Rowena’s sitting closest to him and she holds out a hand to him, her eyes wise and red lips curling. Castiel takes her hand and holds it, her squeezing it in response. “Have a magical night, gentlemen.” 

“Thank you,” he replies softly and his palm is tingling when he gets his hand back. They're all smiling at them as Dean guides him away from the table and back into the crowd. 

“Well, I think everyone stayed on their best behavior, best I could hope for, anyway. And the stories weren't too embarrassing."

Castiel raises an eyebrow in interest. "They have embarrassing stories that involve you? Maybe we should go back."

"Oh, you too huh." Dean knocks their shoulders together softly, smirking at Castiel as he side eyes him playfully. “Cute _ and _ funny, okay. So we got one more stop to make and then I thought maybe, we could take a walk? Unless you need to get home?” 

Castiel doesn’t know what time it is, but he’s in no hurry to go anywhere. “A walk sounds very nice, Dean.” 

“Awesome.” Dean’s smile lingers as they walk through the party that keeps ramping up, the later it gets. Castiel can probably blame the flow of alcohol for that, but everyone seems to be having a good time. They pass the makeshift dance floor, even more crowded than before, and Castiel doesn’t mind one bit when Dean doesn’t stop walking. Castiel doesn’t dance and he certainly doesn’t want to start tonight. 

Dean slows as they reach the food tents and he points out a few different booths, including one for The Roadhouse, being manned by a young, dark skinned man who points at Dean in acknowledgement when they pass. 

“That’s Max Bane, Ellen’s new hire. Bio-chem major, orders a _ lot _ of Amazon.” Dean chuckles and continues his stories. Included in them all night is how Dean knows the person, be it by delivery or type of dog they have. It explains how a lot of people he’s met have recognized Castiel as the man with the pig for a pet. 

Dean has a knack for making anyone sound interesting, which is a talent, considering no one could be as fascinating as Dean himself. 

There’s a very odd, renovated ice cream truck selling artisan churros, whatever those are, and Dean tells him it’s run by a really cool couple named Jesse and Ceasar, who have a seven-year-old named Matt and a bulldog named Buffalo. 

“They also run a breakfast truck at the farmer’s market. Best burritos and Menudo, if it’s raining.” 

Castiel nods thoughtfully, making a note to look up Mexican breakfast foods. 

“We’ll hit it up, next time you come to the table.” 

Castiel’s cheeks warm but he nods because he wants to do anything that Dean might want to do with him. 

“Okay, you ready to meet the woman of honor?” 

Mildred, yes. Castiel knows her face in passing and her name, thanks to Dean and the frequent mention of how cherished she is in the village. She turns at the sound of Dean’s voice and her eyes light up when she sees his hair and she immediately grabs both Dean’s hands. Her hair is perfectly coifed and she’s wearing a lovely black shift dress with a high, open collar, a thick string of pearls around her neck. 

“Dean, darlin'! You made it, I’m so glad!” Her cheeks glow when she glances between them. “And you brought a friend—Oh! It’s you, the nice man with the precious little pig.”

Dean leans in and tilts his head in Castiel’s direction. “This is Castiel.”

“Castiel.” Her voice melts around his name and she holds a hand out, which Castiel takes. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You as well, Mildred. I should have introduced myself ages ago.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that hon, I could have too. Sometimes it’s just nice to smile and nod at a person and have that be enough.” She looks between them with a knowing grin. “Sometimes it’s not, though, is it?” 

Castiel can’t help but look at Dean, wanting to see his reaction as much as he doesn’t because to Castiel, it wasn’t enough to just pass Dean in the park and even had it not been for their meeting, he thinks they would have met somehow, at some point. The glint in Dean’s eyes makes him think he’s not far off the mark. 

At some point, Mildred pats them on their arms and continues to greet her party goers and for whatever reason, Castiel’s content to stay here and study the low slope of Dean’s nose, and how it comes to a perfect point, and how the dimples around his mouth deepen the more he smiles and soon, they’re just standing there grinning at each other in the middle of the party. 

“Make sure you boys get some of my birthday ice cream before you go.” 

Mildred breaks the spell she herself weaved and Dean’s smiling down at his feet when he turns and busies himself by doing what he’s told and grabbing them two bowls of ice cream from a nearby table, manned by a face Castiel knows—Cain, if he’s got the name right—the honey man. He smiles at both of them before Dean turns back to him, a blush fading from high in his cheeks. 

Dean clears his throat and hands Castiel his bowl. “Honey vanilla ice cream, it’s Mildred’s favorite and Cain’s specialty.” He nods towards the next table and Castiel can see Donna standing there serving drinks. “Donna will throw some espresso on top if you want, which tastes awesome.”

“I actually don’t drink coffee,” Castiel confesses. He braces for Dean’s reaction because most people think it weird of him. He’s just never cared for the taste, always preferring tea. 

Dean just shrugs and grins. “More coffee in the world for me then.” 

They step up to Donna’s booth and she makes a delighted noise when she sees him. “Well it’s about time! Dean said he’d bring you by and I feel like I’ve been waitin’ all night to see those baby blues.” She pours a shot of espresso into Dean’s bowl he’s holding out. “You havin’ fun? Didya like the tea?” 

“It was delicious, thank you for thinking of me.” 

“It was just a lure to get a little visit.” She winks at him and Dean. “You guys hanging around for karaoke? Jody’s plannin’ on singin’ _ Renegade.” _

“Ah, maybe next time, right Cas?” Dean glances at him and Castiel nods. 

“Definitely something I must see sooner rather than later,” Castiel adds, not really wanting to stay and willing to go along with Dean’s ruse to get them out of there without hurting any feelings. Castiel gets the impression that they’re leaving earlier than most people. 

Donna beams at them. “Well, that’s what I like to hear, we will hold you to it! Enjoy the rest of your night!”

Castiel’s thankful when Dean guides them the rest of the way out of the party, both of them falling into step and eating their ice cream in a comfortable silence. A few bites in, Castiel can understand why this is a specialty, the ribbons of honey perfectly balanced with the vanilla, a perfect treat on the cool, spring night. 

The crickets songs blend with the hum of the frogs as they walk together under the big sycamore trees. They’re walking close to campus so the city sounds are quiet, occasional honks cutting through the sound muffled by the trees. It’s nice, the space they share, the way it moves and wraps around them and Castiel forgets they’re in the middle of Manhattan, let alone a crowded park. 

Dean is the first to break the silence between them, but Castiel doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

“Figured karaoke might not be your thing, hope that’s okay.” He sounds unsure, like he took a liberty that wasn’t his but Castiel’s just glad for him.

“I appreciate it, Dean. Until your gift, I’d never taken time to listen to much music, not on purpose anyway, so singing is definitely something I do not do.”

Dean brightens at the mention of his mixtape. “You listened.” 

“I have,” he hedges, wanting to avoid admitting that he’s listened to it three times in the two days since Dean gave him the Walkman. Castiel finished his third listen as he was getting ready this evening and by the end, he had a few lyrics memorized. He still wants Dean to know how much he appreciates it. “Listening to it makes me very happy.” 

That makes Dean smile wide. “Yeah? Awesome.” 

They’ve come through the park to the fountain, shining bright in the middle of the square, the jets still shooting water high into the sky despite the late hour, illuminated crystal droplets sparkling under the stars. Dean sits along the edge, bringing a leg up and turning towards Castiel when he sits beside him. Castiel mimics his movement, finding this position comfortable and allowing them to face each other, bowls between them. They’re both down to their last few scoops of ice cream and Castiel worries about what happens when they’re done. He slows down his eating. 

Dean swirls what’s left in his bowl around. “So no music growing up, huh?” 

Castiel swallows his ice cream and shrugs. “No television either. If my brother wanted to watch a documentary, he had to do it at the library. I’ll admit it’s strange from the outside, but books were enough back then.” 

“It’s not strange, we were all weird kids. We moved a lot and hardly ever stayed in one place for long, so when I had to take care of my little brother while our dad worked, I’d walk him over to the library so he could study, and I’d just walk around whatever town we were staying in, listening to my cassettes. Other kids thought that was weird.” Dean smiles down at his ice cream, his voice quiet. Castiel’s hanging on every word. 

“My dad only had about fifteen tapes to choose from, stuff like Steppenwolf, Blue Oyster Cult, you know, Steve Miller Band; knew ‘em all by heart. Only ones he never let me borrow were his Zeppelin tapes, but that’s because they reminded him of my mom.” Dean clears his throat around words unsaid. “Anyway, I think I was about twelve and we were passing through some no name town on our way to… Colorado? We moved a few times that year and it all kinda blurs together. My dad was working and the motel tv was showing a replay of Live Aid. Ever heard of that?” 

Castiel shakes his head, but it doesn’t discourage Dean.

“It was some concert in the eighties to benefit like, famine or something? It was a big deal at the time but for twelve-year-old me, it was the first time I saw Freddie Mercury perform and shit man, it changed my life. I swear Cas, he looked so beautiful up there, singing, playing his piano for all those people and sharing his talent. And when he started dancing…” The tips of Dean’s ears are turning pink and he has to clear his throat again. “I was instantly a fan. Saved money and bought any copies of their tapes I came across.” He spreads his hands. “The rest is history.” 

“I’ve listened to your tape three times,” Castiel blurts out, needing Dean to know, now that he’s shared his story. 

The way Dean’s entire face lights up at Castiel’s disclosure makes Castiel’s heart sing and he thinks he knows what Dean means about life changing. 

“See, the magic of Freddie,” he says, pleased as anything and giving Castiel the sweetest smile that makes him lose time, only the wind catching the spray of the fountain and misting them with droplets of water waking him up again. Dean huffs a laugh and drops his gaze, reaching for Castiel’s now empty bowl. 

“Let me toss these, and we can keep walking.” Dean stands and takes their trash over to the nearest can, and Castiel’s mind races with questions, curiosity burning about Dean and how he grew up, questions about other music he might like and what about it he likes so much. He wishes he knew how to ask them all without sounding overeager or pushy but its like Dean gave him a page out of his favorite book and now, Castiel needs to read every single word.

Castiel doesn’t know why Dean makes him feel so greedy. 

He turns towards the fountain, in need of a moment to compose himself and catch his breath. Being this close to Dean makes Castiel’s heart do things it hasn’t done in a long time and it’s just as terrifying as it is exciting. He pulls at the rumpled front of his shirt, clenching his jaw in frustration at just how messy he can be, wrinkled despite his best efforts. 

Dean’s hand cupping his elbow grounds every single one of those thoughts to a screeching halt and freezes his movements. When that hand slides down Castiel’s arm, the entire concept of wrinkles cease to exist because nothing else matters except Dean slotting his fingers between each of Castiel’s, them coming to rest on the back of Castiel’s hand, his thumb already rubbing circles over Castiel’s knuckle. His palm is warm when it presses against Castiel’s. 

“Is this okay, Cas?” Dean hesitates as he asks and he squeezes Castiel’s hand—that he’s holding. Dean’s holding his hand and he wants to know if it’s okay with him. 

Seeing as Castiel’s lost the ability to form words, he squeezes Dean’s hand back, and hopes that’s enough. 

“Awesome,” Dean breathes out, his relief with it. A little tug and Castiel’s falling into step beside him without hesitation, not caring where they go, just wanting to get there without ever having to let go of Dean’s hand again. 

They walk, and Dean tells him more stories about growing up on the road, in motel rooms and tiny apartments with month to month leases, painting a picture of him taking care of his little brother while their dad worked to pay the bills. Every memory is good, something funny his little brother did, like jumping off a maintenance shed when he was four, swearing up and down he could fly like Superman, until gravity proved otherwise and he ended up with a broken arm. 

Dean’s a very good storyteller but Castiel knows a plot hole when it’s missing and all of Dean’s stories are oddly devoid of mentions of his father. 

Castiel trades stories in kind, highlights of adventures with his uncle and brother, of visiting different parts of the city and the surrounding boroughs. 

“So why’d you leave? Sounds like you enjoyed growing up here.” 

“The University of Washington has one of the best programs for Library Sciences and while I loved it here, part of me wanted out, to see what it was like off the island.” 

Dean chuckles and squeezes his hand. “It’s easy to forget about the rest of the world when you’re here.” 

Castiel thinks that is a complete understatement, when his hand is in Dean’s and they’re walking side by side. Sometimes as Dean talks, Castiel forgets for a second and then a bead from the tie on Dean’s bracelet tickles the side of his wrist as their joined hands swing between them and then it’s just that unreal feeling all over again. 

They both drag their feet as they leave the park and walk down the middle of Castiel’s empty street, the night dark, the city settling around them. Dean continues to tell stories, using his hands for emphasis, even the one Castiel’s holding and it makes Castiel’s smile dance across his face. Everything about Dean is expressive and his face gives away half the story where words just won’t suffice and Castiel’s completely enthralled by each one of his anecdotes. 

It’s far, far too soon when they reach Castiel’s little patio, swept clean, the porch light welcoming Castiel home. He glances up to see the upstairs dark, and the only light he can see is through the big front window, the one above the red staircase left on for him by Claire. 

Dean stands with him, his story telling over and only a soft smile lingering on his face. “I had fun tonight,” he says into the shrinking space between them. “Really glad you agreed to come, Cas.” 

“I’m very glad you invited me.” Castiel tightens his hold on Dean’s hand to ground himself, his heart beating wildly in his chest, his nerves out of control. He wills his voice not to tremble. “I had a wonderful time.”

“Good.” Dean’s eyes are jade in the glow of the porch light and they sweep over Castiel’s face, lingering on his lips before flicking back up to his eyes, captivating him. “Do you think maybe—let’s say one day—” He nervously stumbles over his words and Castiel can’t help but be enchanted by him. 

Dean says the next thing in one big rush. “Do you think it would be okay if I wanted to maybe kiss you one day?” 

The words come out and it takes Castiel’s brain a moment of recall but Dean’s words rush back to him and Castiel finds himself nodding yes and wondering just how close that day might be because he thinks he really, _ really _ wants it to be soon. 

“I—yes, I think I would like that very much, Dean.” 

‘Cool, okay.” Dean seems relieved and he gives Castiel’s hand one last squeeze before he lets him go and Castiel misses the warmth in an instant, Dean’s shy grin making up for it as he backs out of the patio with one hand raised in farewell. Castiel unlocks the door with shaking hands and steps inside, his face hot, his heart racing. 

Dean wants to kiss him. 

He presses his back to the door and as he sucks in a deep, trembling breath, Castiel immediately wishes he had just leaned in and kissed Dean and for a split second, he thinks maybe, if he moves fast enough, he might be able to catch Dean and actually do it.

A sharp knock from the other side of the door ruins that plan and Castiel yanks it open as quick as he can, Dean on the other side and already reaching for him. His eyes zero in on Castiel’s mouth and his hand slides into Castiel’s hair when he captures Castiel’s lips in a hot kiss that he can feel all the way down to the tips of his toes when they curl in his boots.

Castiel kisses Dean back with equal enthusiasm, curling his hands in the folds of Dean’s shirt to pull him closer. Every slide of Dean’s lips sends a shiver of pleasure down Castiel’s spine, a feeling he’s gone so long without. 

Dean smiles into their first kiss and slides his hand down to cup the side of Castiel’s face so he can stroke the shell of Castiel’s ear. “I couldn’t wait.”

Castiel closes his eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t.” 

Dean tilts his head so he can deepen their second kiss, and Castiel can feel Dean’s heartbeat in the tips of his fingers where they brush his temple, or maybe it’s just Castiel’s own heart making a desperate bid to leave his body. He opens his mouth at the first press of Dean’s tongue along the seam of his lips and Castiel forgets everything else while Dean thoroughly kisses him goodnight. 

Dean tastes like coffee, and joy, and something completely brand new.

Both of them are breathless when they pull apart.

With one more brush of his lips, now kiss swollen and catching the light, Dean tips their foreheads together. “G’night, Cas,” he whispers, shy again before he’s gone.

In a daze, Castiel shuts the door again and presses the tips of his fingers to his puffy lips, still tingling from Dean’s kisses. “Goodnight, Dean,” he whispers into the emptiness, completely wonder struck.

Castiel supposes that means this was a date, after all. 


	10. Chapter 10

Dean kissed him. 

Dean kissed him and Castiel can’t believe it. His laughter rings out in the empty store, a sharp thing, a surprise even to him as it echoes about the room, disbelief in audio form. 

The thought makes Castiel laugh again and he puts a hand on top of his head, which just reminds him that not a moment ago, Dean’s hand was in his hair, slipping through his locks and caressing the back of his neck as he kissed Castiel. 

He _ kissed _ him. 

Castiel can’t even remember the last time he was kissed, but that doesn’t matter now, because Castiel was just kissed by the most handsome man he’s ever laid eyes on and if it hadn’t _ just _happened, if he couldn’t still taste the espresso in his mouth, he’d think it wasn’t real, a daydream gone awry. 

Another thing he can’t remember is how he got upstairs but at some point, in his disbelief, he got himself up the red staircase and even managed to get his door unlocked before he realizes he’s pushing his front door open, the room dark, save for a light Claire left on over the stove. Pug’s room is empty and Claire’s door is closed and Castiel only listens for a moment, the room silent, both of them asleep, before he closes his own bedroom door behind him. 

Dean kissed him. Castiel can still feel the pressure of Dean’s lips against his, the way Dean smiled, the way his breath hitched in his throat—it’s all just… overwhelming. Mindlessly, Castiel strips down to his white boxers, tossing his clothes into the hamper before crawling between his sheets, his thoughts still down in the store and under the beams of the porch light and the way they made Dean’s hair glow warm and his lips shine. 

They got that way because he was kissing Castiel. 

Snuggling down into his soft sheets, Castiel can’t help but touch his cheeks, still warm from Dean’s attention, his lips, still a little swollen and he just can’t stop smiling. Over and over, he replays the moment, the knock on his door and Dean, on the other side, wanting him. He drifts off and his dreams are filled with flashes of green and bright streaks of orange and a warm feeling that Castiel wakes up with and for a moment, he forgets why until, in a rush, the night before comes back and he can’t fight the smile that breaks out across his face. 

Stretching his arms up, Castiel lets himself enjoy this feeling and it stays with him as he gets up, as he showers and brushes his teeth and dresses in simple jeans and a loose, grey henley. He’s smiling, even when he peeks outside and sees that it’s been raining. Big, grey clouds cover the sky and the sidewalk is wet, but even the poor weather can’t dampen his spirits as Castiel leaves his room. 

As much as he wants to lie in bed and replay the events of last night over and over, Castiel has responsibilities. And he misses Pug. He pauses outside Claire’s closed door and, as he hoped, he can hear little scratches coming from the other side. Smiling wider, he cracks it open so his little friend can squeeze through, his pink little butt wiggling like crazy at the sight of Castiel. 

Claire rolls over in her sleep but it’s the only sign she hears them, and Castiel shuts her door, knowing she has a few more hours before she’ll be ready to join the land of the living. 

Pug, on the other hand, well, Castiel thinks Pug must have missed him terribly, if the way he’s trying to climb up Castiel’s leg is any indication. Castiel leans down to scoop him into his arms. “Hello, my little friend, how _ are _ you this morning?” He tickles under Pug’s hairy chin and keeps his voice low, so as not to disturb Claire further. “Did you have fun with your cousin last night?” Pug pushes his wet nose into the curve of Castiel’s neck as he climbs up to nibble Castiel’s ear, still wiggling so not succeeding at all. 

Castiel huffs out a laugh. “I’m taking that as a yes,” he says with a pat to Pug’s rump. Pug stays in his arms as Castiel serves his breakfast, two small scoops of his special pig chow, along with a few chunks of sweet potato and his chewy multivitamin all mixed up. It’s a long way from the milk soaked pellets he fed Pug when he was still a tiny baby back in Washington. He’s grown so much in the months they’ve been together and it makes Castiel happy that he’s so healthy. They’ve already had to repurchase some of his favorite clothes in bigger sizes, his hoodies more than once. 

He puts Pug down to eat his breakfast while he grabs a hoodie, pink today, and his own coat, frowning at it when he realizes his rainbow pin is missing, still on his shirt from last night, no doubt. By the time Castiel emerges from his room with it, Pug’s finished eating and has dragged one of his blankets over by the door, just so he can root around in it while he waits for Castiel. 

Pug knows their routine now. After he eats, it’s a quick walk to the park so Pug can do his business and then it’s back home so he can go back to sleep. They’ve grown accustomed to it and Castiel falls into the schedule easily, since he works until it’s time for Pug’s afternoon walk.

However this morning, he’s distracted. He has to go back upstairs twice after they lock up; once to get Pug’s treats that he forgot and again to grab his phone, which he left on the countertop after his first trip back. He’s a scattered mess, his mind wandering to the way Dean’s lips felt, or how shy he was when he grabbed Castiel’s hand and the memory makes his fingers tingle with anticipation for the next time it happens. 

Finally ready to go, Castiel’s barely taken a few steps outside when he realizes that Pug is not following and when he turns back, the little pig has planted his rump on the old welcome mat that Castiel has yet to replace. That’s when Castiel notices that it’s misingt a little and with the ground still wet, Pug won’t take another step. 

Fussy pig. 

Scooping him up, Castiel studies the sky trying to determine if they need an umbrella and deciding to just brave it. If he’s carrying Pug, he can walk fast. This is good actually, now he can tell Pug all about the night before while they walk. Situating him in the crook of his arm, Castiel pulls the little pink hood over Pug’s head as they walk out their patio and onto the sidewalk. He glances towards Rowena’s but her shop is still dark, which isn’t a surprise given the early hour. 

He tries to tell as colorful a story as he can, describing the yellow decorations, the different food vendors and all the people he met and any pets they might have. Pug makes the appropriate snorting noises as they walk and he sniffs the air and tilts his ear toward Castiel. He only occasionally tries to flip himself over to burrow in the crook of Castiel’s arm, but Castiel just switches Pug to the other side and continues. 

They reach the park as he’s recounting his time with Dean, his voice fond. “He was a perfect gentleman, polite, and thoughtful, and _ funny, _ but you know that, you spend a lot of time with him.” Pug yawns in agreement and squirms to be put down once he sees that they’ve reached the big grassy lawn. Castiel obliges and rocks back on his heels as he waits for Pug to do his business, his eyes wandering over to the grassy area previously occupied by last night’s festivities. 

One could hardly tell by looking at it, except for large parts of the grass still matted down by the tables and stage. He imagines the path they took and can’t help but hope he'll see Dean this morning, riding his bike or walking maybe? It’s enough of an idea to make him keep his eyes open, his attention a little more focused on his surroundings.

Pug, however, isn’t pleased with being wet. With every step, he shakes the water from the grass off with a flick of his hoof and a grunt of disapproval, his tiny pink nose the only thing sticking out of the too big hoodie as he roots around in the grass. It’s amusing, but it also means dirty little feet so Castiel supposes a bath is in Pug’s very near future, which just brings him back to thinking about when he’ll see Dean again. 

Monday for sure. He’s meant to walk Pug on Monday. Sunday, maybe, if Castiel ventures out into the Farmer’s Market again, which is likely, given how exciting it was last weekend and now that he and Dean— 

Now that he and Dean… what? Kissed? Held hands? What does one date (that Castiel wasn’t even sure _ was intended to be such) _ constitute these days? It’s been a long time—too long and Castiel doesn’t know the rules anymore. The last date he went on, the man he was supposed to meet never showed up and after that, he lost all desire to attempt it again. 

So are he and Dean dating now? No, even to Castiel that seems absurd. 

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, bending over to scoop up Pug, the pig trying to climb his leg and get off the ground as quick as his dramatic little butt can and he immediately tries to get under Castiel’s trench coat, pushing the hoodie back to expose chocolate brown eyes, blinking up at him, a single blade of grass stuck to his snout. 

“Do you think Dean wants to… date me?” 

Pug stares at him. And sneezes. 

Castiel chuckles, the pig’s antics breaking his mounting anxiety. “Bless you,” he says, lifting Pug up to kiss his little head. “I guess you’ve given me your opinion on the matter.” He holds Pug close and breathes in the top of his head, smelling spring rain and fresh cut grass and he can’t help but wonder what this will mean for them. 

At least Castiel knows that Dean adores Pug. He smiles against the top of Pug’s head before settling him back in his arm, pulling his hoodie over his head and getting an appreciative push of Pug’s nose into his palm, the little pig wiggling himself into a comfortable position as Castiel turns back towards home. 

He goes the long way back through the park so he can visit Donna’s for a cup of tea to take home, now that he’s a little damp around the shoulders from the mist in the air. Pug’s smart to get off the ground and into Castiel’s warm embrace. As he walks, he strokes his fingers down Pug’s back, idly wondering if maybe _ he _ should make the first move and ask _ Dean _ out. 

“What do you think? Where do you think we should go, hmm?” All he receives is a loud snore and he shakes his head at his lazy little boy. Castiel has no idea what they could do and he’s considering asking Claire when a huge line of people coming out of Donna’s coffee shop stops him in his tracks. He checks his watch, thinking it’s later than it is but no, it’s still very early, too early for this many people. 

Disappointed, but knowing he can make a perfectly good pot of tea at home, where it’s _ dry, _Castiel sighs and turns back, assuming he missed some kind of early morning event that Donna’s holding. He’ll have to pay better attention to the community board, next time he stops in. 

He’s still distracted when he reaches his block, trying to come up with possible “date night” ideas and wondering if Google might help him, something to consider before he admits to Claire that he needs help. Knowing her, she might already have ideas for him. He’s actually excited to tell her about the night before. When Castiel got home last night, he was obviously distracted but he would have loved the opportunity to share his happy moment with someone Castiel knew was always rooting for him. She’s going to be very excited to hear his news. 

Castiel hears the knocking before he realizes that it’s coming from his patio, and his heart pounds when he realizes who’s standing at his front door. 

“Dean?” 

Dean whirls around, eyes wide under the brim of a black baseball cap that has a streak of red paint on it and what is he even doing here, on Castiel’s doorstep at six forty-five in the morning? He’s wearing worn brown boots and the ripped jeans he seems to favor, paired with a black shirt under a jean jacket, and Castiel can’t help but smile at the matching paint he can see splashed up his left arm when Dean raises his hand in greeting, his smile bright. 

“You guys start _ early _, I thought for sure I’d beat you downstairs this morning,” he says, hesitating before he takes a step closer. “I knocked, hoping you’d hear me, and I was just about to start tossing rocks at your window so it’s probably a good thing you came home.” He smiles down at his feet for a moment before tilting his head back up as Castiel takes his own step towards him. “Knowing my luck, I’d have broken somethin’.” 

Castiel doubts Dean would ever be so careless and he wishes he had been home so Dean would have had the chance to get his attention in such a way. He shakes his head at their silliness. “Why didn’t you just use your key and knock on the door like last night?” 

Dean scoffs. “That’s not a very romantic surprise. Plus,” he gives Castiel a cheeky grin that he can’t help but melt under, just a bit. “You pick your date up at their front door.” 

Oh, now Dean wants to throw the word _ date _around. Castiel’s cheeks are warm and Dean’s eyes flick around his face, amusement dancing in them as he closes the space between them. “Is it okay that I’m here? Thought I might catch you two before you left, see if I could join you on your morning walk but it looks like I missed it.” 

Castiel’s heart drops. They’ve only been gone fifteen minutes at the most. Maybe if Castiel had taken more time getting up, or had one more nice dream, he wouldn’t have left so early and missed such an opportunity. 

“How long will little man be asleep?” Dean reaches out to run a finger down Pug’s nose gently, making it twitch and Dean’s so close, Castiel needs to clear his throat before he answers. 

“Another hour, at least. More if he’s under all his soft blankets.” 

“Enough time for me to buy you breakfast at Donna’s?” Dean sounds careful, like he thinks Castiel might turn down a chance to walk with him. Then he remembers the crowd and frowns, which makes Dean frown and take a small step back. 

“There was a very large crowd there this morning.” 

Dean’s frown disappears and he grins, understanding on his face. “That’s not gonna be a problem.” 

Castiel tilts his head, not grasping what Dean means and he studies Dean’s knowing smile and makes a decision. He situates Pug a bit to make sure he’s comfortable before he reaches for Dean’s hand. “Then we have time.” 

Dean’s smile is blinding as he grabs Castiel’s hand and intertwines their fingers, their palms warm and pressing together and it’s exactly like the first time, the tingle of electricity under his skin, now coupled with his nervous anxiety about reaching for Dean’s hand. His breathing is returning to normal, thanks to Dean’s enthusiasm and not outright confusion at his advances.

Castiel’s not sure which of them sets the pace as they leave the patio, but it’s not fast, almost so they can take their time strolling down the middle of the street. Holding hands. 

This is all so unexpected to him, to have been thinking so intently about the next time he might see Dean and now, here they were, all because Dean asked him out (on an actual date!), something he is so grateful for and not just because of what’s happening now.

“I had—” 

“Cas, I—” 

They both start talking at the same time and cut each other off with an awkward laugh. Dean knocks into Castiel’s shoulder. “You first.” 

He ducks his head and nods. “I was going to thank you again for inviting me to the party. I had a very nice time.” 

“Personally, I thought that kiss was a little more than just a _ nice time. _ ” Dean squeezes his hand and Castiel’s regretting his choice of words _ . _ He certainly didn’t mean to imply he didn’t like Dean’s kisses, _ heavens _no. 

“That is _ not _ what I was—what I meant to say is—”

“Cas, I was kidding.” He stops them and huffs out a laugh. “I had a really good time too, _ especially _when we said goodnight.”

Okay, now Castiel’s even more embarrassed and he’s quick to try to save some face after that blunder. “Really? Because it didn’t _ seem _like you were trying to get rid of me.” 

Dean’s mouth drops open and now it’s Castiel’s turn to huff in mock indignation. When Dean notices him trying to fight back a grin, his eyebrows go up under the brim of his hat and he looks at Castiel with an exaggerated look of disbelief, his smile trying to burst free and making the corners of Dean’s mouth twitch before laughter bubbles out of him and Castiel’s entire heart soars at Dean’s reaction to his teasing. 

Still laughing, he brings their hands up between them, turning his wrist so he can place a soft kiss to the back of Castiel’s hand as he looks at him through his eyelashes. “I don’t think you ever have to worry about that.” 

Castiel blushes and Dean’s eyes glitter, his lips pressing again to the back of his hand before he drops their hands between them so they can keep walking. Dean’s kind enough to give Castiel a few moments for his blush to fade. 

He's usually never sassy with anyone but Jimmy, and Claire, occasionally. They're used to him, they get his dry humor, but most people _ don't, _so he's very much not in the habit of letting his quips slip. Dean always seems to laugh at them, though.

They’re approaching Donna's and the line is still as long as it was when Castiel passed by earlier. As they reach it, people waiting recognize Dean, and he drops Castiel's hand to give out quick high fives as they pass to as many people as possible, all of them smiling and greeting him warmly. They're headed towards the door and no one seems to mind at all that they appear to be _ cutting _ to the front of this line, everyone too charmed by Dean to care.

Right as they approach the patio, a couple rises from one of the umbrella tables and Dean's asking if they're done and offering to take their trash while motioning for Castiel to sit.

He hurries over and does so, afraid that he might be stealing someone's seat. 

"Shit, we got lucky with that one. These are all first come first serve, you know?" 

Well they couldn't _ possibly _be first but when Castiel peers around, he doesn't see anyone who appears mad at them for any reason.

He still stops Dean with a light touch to his arm before he can turn towards the cafe door. “Are you sure we’re not going to upset anyone who’s been waiting?” 

“Nah, I put this order in special already.” He winks at Castiel and doesn’t wait for an answer before he steps inside, the person waiting in the doorway happy to make room for him to pass. Dean must just be… magic. No one else could get away with skirting a line made up of New Yorkers waiting for _ food _ and anyone other than Dean would be crazy to try. 

As Castiel situates them, he jostles Pug enough to wake the pig and make him snort irritably before he curls into a ball in Castiel’s lap, burying his nose again in a fold of his coat and going straight back to sleep. While Castiel sits and waits, he realizes that, unless he’s missed a glaringly large part of Donna’s menu board each time he’s come in, she doesn’t actually _ serve _ breakfast. 

The long queue and the tray Dean’s holding loaded with food and drinks says otherwise. Some other smiling villager is holding the door open for him and he thanks them with a wide grin before he’s plopping the tray down on the table and taking the seat across from Castiel, a pleased look on his face. 

“May I present the best kept secret in the village?” Dean spreads his hands to show off his goods. There’s two takeout cups, two paper wrapped items that Castiel can’t decipher, and a bowl of chopped up veggies and honestly, it’s not all that impressive, when he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be looking at. He appreciates Donna adding something for Pug though.

Castiel looks from their so called breakfast and back up to Dean, tilting his head in confusion.

“Bacon, egg, and cheese bagel! These are like, New York staples and Donna makes the best.” He puts one down in front of Castiel and takes the other for himself before he unloads the two cups and the bowl and puts the tray under his seat to get it out of the way. “When I told Donna you were here, she asked if the little man was with you and when I gave the affirmative, she laughed and said if you don’t want to eat the bacon, she’ll be happy to swap yours out for the vegan option. I think it has potato instead of the meat.” Dean grins and the moment he unwraps his sandwich, a smoky, delicious aroma drifts across the table, making Castiel’s mouth water.

A tiny chainsaw like snore comes from inside his jacket and Castiel glances down at the sleeping pig. “He won’t mind,” he replies with a shrug, quickly unwrapping his food. The bagel is golden brown but soft and filled with fluffy eggs and melted cheese, along with a generous helping of crispy bacon that sticks out from different sides. It looks as incredible as it smells. 

He pauses before he takes a bite when a thought crosses his mind. “I do hope the smell doesn’t make him wake up hungry for bacon though.” Castiel gives Dean a concerned look that freezes him, Dean’s sandwich halfway to his open mouth, his elbows propped on the table.

“You serious? Is that—” He lowers his voice and looks at Pug, his wrist going slack, the bagel in his hand dangling between them. Dean leans in and Castiel does too, enjoying this probably too much. “Could that happen?” 

Castiel leans back like he has to think. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” With that, he takes a big bite of his sandwich, eyebrow raised. 

Dean stares at him for a second before throwing his head back and laughing. He has to put down his sandwich, he’s laughing so hard, and a piece of egg bounces out of it and onto the wrapper. It knocks him back, two legs of his chair coming off the ground for a moment before Dean rocks back down, shaking his head at Castiel, who is trying not to grin while he chews and hopes Dean doesn’t fall over. 

“You’re funny,” Dean comments before he picks his sandwich back up. “You had me goin’ there for a second.” 

Castiel swallows the delicious bite he just took, humming appreciatively as he does it, a warmth curling under his skin. “My apologies. Claire’s the vegan in the family. Despite what most people think, I actually love bacon.” He puts a hand over Pug’s head playfully. “Don’t tell Pug.” He nods towards their cups. “Now what did you bring me?” 

“Oh, shit Cas, that reminds me.” Dean puts his sandwich down again and Castiel hopes he gets to take a bite soon because it’s delicious. He seems torn, reaching towards his back pocket but stopping short and reaching for the cups between them instead. “Okay, drinks first.” Dean cracks one open to peek inside. He’s so cute, his hands gentle so as not to spill any of the liquid inside as he sees what’s what. 

Carefully closing the lid, he places the cup in front of Castiel with a cheeky grin. “Green tea for my handsome breakfast date,” he says with a wink. “And the drink of the gods, delicious coffee, for me.” Dean holds up his cup, a lovely flush crawling up his cheeks. “Cheers, Cas.” 

“Cheers.” Tipping their cups together, Castiel takes a sip to hide his own blush and he secretly smiles behind the lid before trading his cup for his sandwich. “Was there something else you remembered?” Castiel’s curiosity was peaked before and Dean snaps out of staring at Castiel, his soft smile replaced with excitement at Castiel’s reminder. 

“Made you guys somethin’.” Dean leans over to take a small, folded, black cloth from his back pocket. He puts his sandwich to the side a bit before he unfolds it. Castiel can’t imagine what Dean has or even why, but he always feels like that anytime Dean brings him something new. Anticipation curls in his stomach. 

“Okay, it’s really two things, but I kept forgetting to make one and then I was waiting for the paint to dry on the other and when I got _ home _ last night, it was ready. Then I was thinkin’ about when I might get to see you again and figured if I got to see you, I could give you everything.” Now Castiel can see that it’s actually two pieces of folded cloth and Dean shakes the first one open, his eyebrows bouncing. 

After a few shakes, he holds up a tiny, Pug sized onesie with slashes of paint arranged in a rainbow pattern. Dean flips it around and Castiel can see matching designs on the other side, too. 

Castiel’s heart swells as his eyes grow wide. “Dean did you—paint this? For Pug?” 

At the sound of his name, Pug jerks in his sleep and Dean ducks his head with a smile and a finger to his lips. Castiel huffs out a laugh and re-arranges the way he’s sitting when Pug flips himself on his back. His little mouth hangs slack, legs in the air, the tiny pig deep in his dreams and oblivious to the lovely present Dean brought him. 

“Yeah, last weekend he was wearing that other one, the white one with the rainbows?”

Castiel was wondering where that had gotten to, noticing later that the onesie didn’t make it home. 

“He got it a little dirty after he got down on some roasted sweet potato they had samples of and I took it off him, thinkin’ I could get the stains out.” Dean folds the little onesie and puts it off to one side. “Turns out, sweet potato and white cotton do _ not _ mix so I just replaced it.” He taps on his gift. “Black, harder to stain. And I wanted to keep up the rainbow theme.” 

Castiel glances down at his rainbow pin fondly. “You know you didn’t have to go to all that trouble, but it is very appreciated.” He scratches Pug’s exposed belly softly, not wanting to disturb him too much. “Pug will be very thankful when he wakes up.” 

“Wasn’t any trouble, Cas.” He grins mischievously. “Now that I know his size, I might have to keep an eye out for fashion items.” 

“He does love his fashion,” Castiel replies, appreciating Dean’s attention to detail. 

Dean unfolds the second thing and Castiel’s not really sure _ what _ he’s looking at. “So, the weather’s heating up, and you said don’t wear your coat on warm days and _ of course _ it’s all gloomy when I’m tryin’ to give this to you.” He leans in to let Castiel take a closer look. “It’s a bag, see. I make them out of old band shirts.” Dean turns his gift over and there’s a black and white logo and he can see the name Queen going down the side. “I was savin’ this shirt for somethin’ special and figured, since you enjoyed the tape…” 

Castiel looks up at him and Dean’s staring shyly at the bag, his fingers fumbling with the strap. He goes on without looking up. 

“You can put all your stuff in here instead of your pockets so, little dude’s trash bags, his snacks, you know, whatever.” He flattens out the part of the strap near the body of the bag. “You can move your pins here, too, if you don’t want to leave them on your coat all summer.” 

Dean really thinks of everything. Castiel had realized just this morning when retrieving his rainbow pin that this might be an issue.

“Oh and you can kinda wear it however, over your chest or like, on your belt. I can show you how to adjust the strap.” He’s still messing with it and Castiel wants to grab his hands and calm his obvious nerves about his homemade gift. “I have a few I use when I walk the dogs you know, comes in handy so my hands are free. If you don’t like it, it's not a big deal, I—” 

“Dean I love it, thank you,” Castiel says in a rush, not wanting Dean to misconstrue his silence for disinterest for even a second. 

“You do?” Finally, Dean looks away from the bag and his eyes are mossy green in the low light, full of hesitation and around the edges, hope. 

“Very much.” Castiel’s happy to accept this thoughtful gift and when Dean hands both over to him, their hands brush together and something catches in Castiel’s throat. He can’t remember the last time someone’s done something like this, besides Dean, who’s been so kind to Castiel for no reason beyond wanting to make him happy and he has to push away those lonely thoughts that make his throat ache. Maybe Dean will help them stay away for good. 

Both the bag and the onesie are made from a similar, soft fabric and Castiel tucks them inside his coat while Dean makes himself busy with a long drink of coffee that he’s trying to use to hide his proud smile. He _ should _be proud as it seems his creativity really knows no bounds and he continues to surprise Castiel at every turn. 

Especially when he puts down his coffee and takes Castiel’s hand from across the table, before picking up his sandwich to take his long awaited first bite with a sharp groan of delight and a squeeze of Castiel’s hand. 

How does Dean expect him to eat now, when he’s stroking his thumb over Castiel’s knuckles like that? 

Castiel takes a sip of tea for an extra moment to compose himself before picking up his bagel and taking his own big bite. 

“Awesome, right?” 

Castiel licks his lips and swallows. “Incredible. How did I not know about this?” 

“Oh, Donna only does it on certain Saturday mornings. You gotta follow the cafe’s Facebook page.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “You have a Facebook account?” Dean does _ not _ seem the type. 

“Nah,” he laughs. “That’s not really for me. Donna always gives me the heads up.” 

“That’s nice of her. These sandwiches are delicious. I’m not a big breakfast person, but for these, I’d be willing to make an exception.” 

Dean’s chewing but he looks appalled as he swallows his food in a hurry. “Not a breakfast person? Pancakes! French toast! _ Waffles, _Cas, how can you not love waffles? Cover those babies in some whipped cream and strawberries or oooh blueberries.” A dreamy look has overtaken Dean’s face as he stares into space for a moment, like he’s reliving a particularly good waffle experience and Castiel can’t help but think he’s been eating the wrong breakfast foods all his life. 

This sets Dean off on a barrage of stories about food which Castiel finds fascinating. He can’t recall many meals so good he can recount the experience of eating them, but Dean seems to be a natural storyteller, having the ability to make even a story about pie interesting. 

Dean _ really _ loves pie, it turns out. Castiel doesn’t even mind when Dean talks about it for ten minutes straight because he keeps smiling, and laughing at his own jokes, and making Castiel laugh at them and he squeezes Castiel’s hand every time he smiles and if this is what being with Dean is going to be like, Castiel can’t wait.

While they chat, Castiel learns that while Dean may love to eat, he doesn’t cook all that much. He does promise to make the “best cheeseburgers on the entire planet” for Castiel one day, though. Living alone for so long, Castiel’s learned to prepare a few things, but he certainly doesn’t have any strong feelings about food, not anywhere near Dean’s level, anyway.

But considering the first meal they’re sharing is very delicious, Castiel thinks Dean might be onto something. Their sandwiches are gone too soon, even though Castiel slowed his eating down halfway through their meal to prolong their time together. He tries to fight back the disappointment that their time together is ending, Castiel sure Dean has a busy day ahead of him. He also needs to get Pug home and into a bath before the dry mud on his little legs irritates his sensitive skin. 

Resigned, Castiel nods when Dean asks if he’s done and offers to take their trash inside. 

“Refill?” Dean nods at Castiel’s cup, corner of his mouth tipped up. “I gotta run in for Ellen’s stuff.” 

Ellen’s special delivery was breakfast sandwiches? Castiel finds that very endearing, especially knowing Dean’s also going over there to help Ellen clean. He declines the refill with a shake of his head and Dean’s gone inside in a flash, tossing their trash in the receptacle by the door before pushing his way inside. The line has shrunk considerably but is still stretched along the front of the building. 

Castiel takes care rearranging Pug in his arms as he stands so as not to disturb the sleeping pig too much, very thankful for Pug’s ability to sleep through anything. He doesn’t have to wait long for Dean to return, now holding a white paper bag with the shops logo printed on it and his face relaxes into a smile when he sees Castiel waiting for him. 

Castiel really isn’t ready to say goodbye. 

“I see little dude is still out,” Dean says, checking his watch. “Can’t believe we killed an hour sitting here.” Castiel swears Dean’s blushing, but he’s very easily distracted away from Dean’s freckles when Dean cups his elbow and slides his hand down his arm, encouraging Castiel to take his hand again. “Ready?” 

Oh. Dean blinks at him through his long eyelashes, shy and hopeful and Castiel’s heart speeds up because Dean wants to walk him home. He nods and squeezes Dean’s hand. 

“Awesome,” Dean breathes out and off they go. He nods at a few people as they walk, but Dean doesn’t let go of Castiel’s hand this time. They don’t talk much on the walk back to Castiel’s house, but Castiel doesn’t mind. The silence between them is comfortable, both of them full, happy, and content to enjoy the cool morning breeze, lingering on the heels of the storm that passed in the night. Castiel glances up at Dean’s hat and can’t help his curiosity. 

“Do you like the Mets?” 

“Hell yeah, the _ superior _ New York team—wait, don’t tell me you’re a—” Dean grins for a moment but it falters and Castiel shakes his head. 

“No, no, not a Yankees fan. My uncle was,” Castiel nods, remembering. “And maybe it was the natural rebel in me, but I had to root for the other local team. We used to enjoy going to games when they played each other,” he muses. It’s been a very long time since Castiel’s talked about his uncle and he’s enjoying himself, especially when his audience seems to hang on his every word. It makes him brave and he gathers his courage, holding Dean’s hand a little tighter. “Maybe we could go to a game together, when the season starts.” 

Castiel holds his breath, wanting Dean to say yes more than just about anything he’s wanted in a long time. 

“Oh, we are _ so _ doing that. Have you been to the new stadium? It’s badass.” Dean’s eyes shine with excitement in the cool light of the morning and Castiel can’t help but think him beautiful, distracted by it before realizing that Dean’s agreed. 

Castiel’s smile grows, pushing at the edges of his mouth. “I haven’t yet.”

“Oh, even better, I get to show you around, take you to all the good food spots.” Dean’s eyes keep flicking back to Castiel’s mouth and Castiel swears his cheeks get redder but his voice doesn’t waiver when he drops his tone and leans in. “Good ribs in center field.” He pretends to avoid looking at Pug. 

“We won’t tell,” Castiel murmurs back, happy to play along, his own cheeks warm under Dean’s attention. 

They’re both grinning at each other but those smiles fall when they realize that they’ve arrived back at Castiel’s already, without even noticing. 

“Damn,” Dean says with a frown. “Totally forgot to take the long way back here.” He finally lets go of Castiel’s hand when he ushers him into the patio first, Castiel’s steps heavy to get back to the front door but a warmth growing in his chest, knowing Dean wished their time together was longer too. 

They turn towards each other outside the entrance to the store and Dean breaks the silence first. “Cas, I—” 

At the sound of Castiel’s name, Pug jerks awake from where he’s been sleeping, hidden in the crook of Castiel’s arm, his hoodie hiding his tiny face. It’s still covering his eyes when he snorts his disapproval loudly, trying to flick it off but failing because he’s wiggling too hard, his tail twitching against Castiel’s side. 

Dean laughs and picks the hoodie off Pug’s face, Pug squealing loudly and scrambling when he confirms its Dean he heard and all Castiel can do is let Dean take Pug into his arms as he tries to soothe the very excited piglet. 

“Ok, little man, it’s cool buddy,” Dean coos and Castiel can’t help but fall a little harder. “You slept through breakfast, dude, sorry.” Pug is trying to get into the crook of Dean’s neck and Dean supports him the rest of the way with a hand on his little rump. “Don’t worry, Donna packed you a piggie bag, yes she did.” He grins up at Cas and wiggles his eyebrows. “Get it? Piggie bag?” 

Castiel raises his eyebrows and tries to fight his smile as he takes the white bag Dean’s also juggling with the happy pig. He opens it to find a few wrapped sandwiches and a paper box with Pug scrawled on top. When Castiel pulls it out, he notices another familiar name in the bag and he takes out the sandwich brandishing it. 

“Is this for _ my _Claire?” 

Dean perks up, looking away from Pug. “Yeah, veggie option! Couldn’t have her missin’ out on the fun, just in case she stayed over.” 

“She did,” Castiel confirms, a bit taken aback at Dean’s thoughtfulness. It probably shouldn’t surprise him at this point, but he can’t help but be touched. “That was very kind of you.” He puts all the food on the small table that shares the space. 

Dean looks down at Pug again and fusses with his hoodie, and when Castiel turns back, he can see Dean is satisfied with his decision to include Castiel’s niece in his own way. He shrugs. “It was no big deal, she’s a cool kid.” Dean tilts his head down further still and Castiel curses the hat he’s wearing. As adorable as Dean is in it, (especially because it accentuates the pointiness of his ears which Castiel finds so cute) it’s frustrating him not to be able to see Dean’s blush that he knows is there, and the way it spreads across his nose to bring out his freckles.

Castiel almost misses the next thing Dean says, so annoyed by the hat. 

“Probably got it from her uncle,” he tells Pug, peeking up to see Castiel’s reaction which is to flush at Dean’s words, Castiel’s cheeks probably as pink as he suspected Dean’s to be, now confirmed. 

It’s like seeing Castiel react to his flirtation boosts Dean’s confidence because he steps forward, and cups the side of Castiel’s neck loosely, his thumb stroking the sensitive spot behind Castiel’s ear. Castiel’s sure Dean can hear his heart grind to a screeching halt when he lets go of Castiel so he can turn his hat backwards, only so he can lean in and tilt their foreheads together. 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re real cute when you blush, Cas?” Dean sounds strangled and Castiel feels the same, the place they’re pressed together catching fire, sure to burn them both. 

Castiel has to lick his lips before he answers, and Dean’s hot breath cools them and it makes him shiver in ways he thought long gone. 

“You are, also—as well—” 

Dean grins, wide and beautiful, and then he’s kissing Castiel hard and sure and it’s like the first time all over again. Castiel’s hands go up and around Dean’s neck, pulling them together and tilting his head so he can return Dean’s kiss and deepen it, all other thoughts lost in the softness of Dean’s lips. Caressing Castiel’s neck, Dean’s hand makes its way up until his fingers tangle in Castiel’s hair as he holds them close, the two of them exchanging kiss after kiss after kiss. Dean’s kisses are so sweet, Castiel can’t help but be shaky when they’re forced apart by Pug, now fussing between them to get down. 

“Someone’s mad he’s not getting all the attention,” Dean teases, his eyes shining as he obliges the little pig and puts him down. Pug takes off to sniff the patio, his leash skipping over the concrete tiles as he runs around the edges and to the grassy area.

Dean takes his hands again the moment he straightens and Castiel sighs. 

“Thank you for surprising me this morning.” He smiles at Dean, enjoying when Dean’s blush deepens. Castiel wishes he had time to count all of Dean’s freckles, but he has to settle for saying goodbye, knowing they both have responsibilities waiting. He still wants Dean to know his thoughtful act is appreciated though. “Please feel free to surprise us anytime you might want to.” 

“Can I use my key and come to the door?” Dean nudges Castiel’s cheek with the tip of his nose before brushing a kiss along his jaw, leaving behind sparks, Castiel’s sure of it. 

He leans into Dean, trying to breathe him in. “Is that as romantic as throwing rocks at my window?” 

Castiel’s heart soars when Dean presses a smile against his own before shaking his head no. “I’ll remember that for next time.” 

“Okay.” Next time, _ next _ time, there’s going to be a next time and Castiel can’t imagine what world he stumbled upon where a man like Dean could be interested in a man like him. He wonders when it will stop feeling like a dream, but in all honesty, if it is a dream, it’s not one Castiel ever wants to wake up from. 

“Think you’ll stop by the market tomorrow?” Dean sounds hopeful and it’s an easy answer, knowing Dean wants to see him again so soon. 

“Yes, and we will be by to say hello.” 

“Awesome.” Dean leans in to kiss Castiel again, a quick press of their lips that Castiel returns. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He drops one last, sweet peck to the corner of Castiel’s mouth and squeezes his hands one last time before Dean’s letting go to scoop Pug out of the rhododendrons that separate Castiel and Rowena’s patios, passing him to Castiel with a laugh when a stray flower falls off his head. “Have a good day, you two.” 

“You, as well,” Castiel calls out as Dean walks away, turning one last time to wave at them, his smile sweet and warm as he turns his hat forward again and then, Dean’s gone, too far for Castiel to see from where he stands. 

He holds Pug up, distracting him from watching the direction Dean went and chocolate eyes blink at him, Pug’s nose twitching. “I think it could be very easy to fall in love with him.” Pug snorts in what Castiel can only take as agreement. “You should be very careful,” Castiel whispers to him, with one last look down the street before he lets himself inside with a sigh. 

Claire is awake and waiting for them when they get upstairs. 

Perched on a stool with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and her cell phone in the other, Claire grins at them as Castiel pushes the door open and Pug comes scurrying through. She puts her cup down and stands so she can scoop Pug into her arms as Castiel shrugs out of his coat, extracting the gifts from Dean and placing them on the side table under the mirror, next to a slim glass vase that wasn’t there before, the yellow daffodil Dean brought him sitting there happily. His heart flutters as he runs a finger over the soft petals. 

“Mornin’ Uncle,” Claire calls out, breaking Castiel from his reverie. “Did you guys have a nice walk? I was just about to make some breakfast for us so you can tell me about your date that wasn’t,” she says, giving Pug a squeeze before putting him down in his pen where he dive bombs directly into his pile of soft blankets without hesitation. She grins at him. “I already started a pot of water for your tea.” 

“You’re up early,” he comments. Castiel wasn’t expecting her to be up for at least another hour and he’d hoped to get Pug bathed and down for another nap before she woke up. Plus he wanted a moment to replay the morning in his head, the thought of doing so making him smile. He does his best to hide it before he answers her. “I have your breakfast already.” 

Claire notices and narrows her eyes. “Where have you been?”

The kettle blows and Castiel’s thankful for the excuse to prepare his tea as he joins Claire in the kitchen. Pulling down his favorite mug—purple and covered in bumble bees, a Christmas gift from Claire when she was nine—he busies himself with filling his infuser with more of Donna’s green tea to buy himself time. Claire just waits, arms crossed and leaning against the counter. Castiel will never tell her how much she reminds him of Jimmy when she does this. 

“Did you know that Donna serves breakfast sandwiches on select days?” He nods over his shoulder, looking pointedly at the paper wrapped bagel he left on the counter. “Vegan breakfast sandwich, just for you.” 

She gives him a hum of approval. “And how did _ you _ find out about it?” 

Castiel opens a drawer to take out a spoon and answers as he closes it with a snap. “Dean told me.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel can see Claire straighten. “What was that, uncle?” 

Castiel clenches his jaw and pours the steaming water into his mug, before he answers her. Because she’s not going to give up until he tells her about last night and now, he definitely has to tell her about this morning, given that he needs to explain the food. 

It’s not that Castiel doesn’t _ want _ to tell her, he does but what he wants more is some time to process everything himself. He has no idea what this will mean for them, for him, even for _ her _, considering the time she spends here, and Castiel would love to figure some of that out for himself before getting into too much detail with Claire. It probably wouldn’t hurt to talk to Dean about it too at some point. 

He takes a steadying breath and tries to put a pleasant expression on his face before he turns to Claire. “Dean took me there this morning.” 

Claire is mid-chew when her eyes go wild and excited. She chews faster.

“And last night _ was, _ in fact, a date.” 

Her eyes almost bug out of her head as she swallows and Castiel’s slightly alarmed. “Did he _ stay _ over?” 

Castiel furrows his brow, small smile gone. “What? No! What would give you that idea?” 

“You just said it was a date and that he took you to breakfast!” She waves her sandwich at him. “What am I supposed to think?” 

Castiel rolls his eyes and gives his attention back to his tea, irritated with what she’s implying, and finding it all kinds of inappropriate on top of it all. 

“Sorry, I know, that was inappropriate.” 

It’s like they’re family or something.

He turns back to her with his tea in hand and scowl still creasing his forehead. “It was.” He blows on his tea to cool it. “Dean was here when Pug and I returned from our walk and he offered to take us to breakfast.” He motions at her food. “You included.”

She smiles sheepishly. “I’ll be sure to tell him thanks.”

“You can tell him at the farmer’s market tomorrow. I plan to see him there.” 

Her whole face transforms into joy. “So… I guess that means last night went well?”

Castiel can’t help it and he smiles into his cup of tea. “It went really well.” 

Claire does a little happy dance, and Castiel can’t help but bark out a laugh. Their commotion makes Pug lift his nose out of his blankets to blink at them, reminding Castiel that he needs a bath. 

“Okay, finish your breakfast while I give your cousin a bath.” He tops his cup of tea off with more hot water before he goes to scoop Pug into his arms. “Maybe you can make a little list for the market tomorrow? Oh, and I need your shirt size.” He glances at her and she’s typing something out on her phone. 

“Medium,” she says, almost absentmindedly until she realizes what he asked for, looking at him strangely. “Why?” 

“We’re working for the co-op from one to two tomorrow and I need to send the information to Garth.” 

He’s glad to see her eyes light up again at the news. “Sweet, sounds like fun.” And then she’s back to her phone and eating her breakfast and it’s almost fascinating how quickly she can adapt from one topic to another. 

But Castiel soon finds he doesn’t have any trouble either, his thoughts wandering to Dean and their morning as he draws a bath for Pug, tipping a little baby shampoo into the tub to create some bubbles for Pug to play with. He used to hate his baths at first but now, Castiel lays down a towel so he doesn’t slip while he moves around and as long as Castiel keeps the water warm, he’s content to sit and soak while Castiel washes him. 

He shakes his rump as Castiel washes his back and when he noses at the bubbles, they tickle his little nose and make him sneeze. It’s the sweetest little noise and Castiel laughs, tells him, “bless you,” and pulls out his phone. 

When he sneezed, Pug flicked a stack of bubbles from his nose that are now stuck on top of his head and he looks so adorable, tiny droplets of water stuck to his eyelashes as he looks to Castiel to see what’s so funny. 

Castiel snaps as many photos as he can from as many angles as Pug will allow before he’s back to walking back and forth from one end of the tub to the other, occasionally sucking at the water before spitting it back out, probably once he tastes the baby soap, silly piglet. 

He lets Pug play while he picks out the best picture, his heart pounding as he pulls up Dean’s contact information. He bites his lip while he composes the text message and before he can lose his nerve, he hits send, the photo of Pug accompanied by the pig and the water droplet emojis. 

Satisfied, he’s about to shut off the screen and get Pug out of the water when his phone buzzes in his hand, a new text popping up from Dean. Adrenaline shoots down his spine when he sees Dean’s response, a string of three emojis: the one that’s crying from laughter, the one with hearts for eyes, and the pig returned and Castiel can only take it as a good sign that Dean liked the photo. 

He also sends the photo to Claire and hears a squeal from the other room when she opens it. It’s not a surprise when the bathroom door gets pushed open, Claire flipping down the lid of the toilet so she can sit down with what’s left of her sandwich. 

Castiel frowns. “I don’t think it's sanitary to eat in here.” 

She frowns right back at him and swallows her food, waving the other bit around. “I have one bite left uncle, why are you trying to ruin it?” She examines it for a moment before popping it into her mouth anyway with a shrug of her shoulders. 

With a shake of his head, Castiel turns back to Pug so he can dump a cup of water on his head, careful to avoid his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me about your night with this little man.” He was sure everything went fine but it would still be nice to hear about it. 

Claire’s smacking her lips, her food eaten, and she hums happily. “That was really good. Maybe Dean knows what he’s talking about.” 

Castiel hums his agreement as she goes on.

“As for last night, we just hung out, didn’t we dude? We took a quick walk to the deli for a sandwich and so Pug could do his business and after dinner, we had a dance party and after that, Pug fell asleep.” 

As she talks, Castiel’s extracted Pug from his bath, the little pig wrapped in his navy blue towel, his nose twitching as he snorts and snuffles along to Claire’s story. Castiel likes to think it’s his way of chattering and adding his version of things.

It makes Claire giggle as she takes Pug from Castiel so he can clean up. “See, he says he had a great time and that he loves his Auntie Claire.” Pug snorts into her palm in approval. 

Castiel shakes his head fondly. “You’re cousins,” he reminds them.

“Oh he doesn’t know the difference, do you baby,” she coos at Pug, ignoring Castiel’s semantics. “Anyway, after he fell asleep, I did some homework and worked on a story for a while before I fell asleep.” 

“Which story?” 

“Well I started it for fun but my English teacher thinks he’s _ cool _ so he assigned us ‘transformative fiction’ which is just another way of saying fanfic so I don’t know who he thinks he’s kidding but whatever.” 

Castiel follows Claire into Pug’s room, the pig already getting sleepy eyed in her arms. He eyes his bookshelves while Claire pulls a little shirt over Pug’s head before putting him down near his tee-pee bed. Castiel’s following what she’s talking about somewhat, having heard her talk about fanfic in the past, even if he still doesn’t really understand what it is. He just knows she likes to write it about some of her favorite shows and the stories she’s shared with him have been delightful.

“You know that book series I like? About the angel and the hunter?”

“They… fight crime?” 

“Uncle! You still haven’t read the Supernatural books?” 

Castiel can hear the irritation in her voice. He’s meant to, he really has but after reading the summary of the first book, something about ghost children, and not having it pique his interest, he let the idea wain. Claire calls them campy but romantic, whatever that means, but they seem to be popular, the set at his library in Washington always checked out. Even the covers were cheesy, but they gave Castiel a chuckle every time he checked one out or back in, only to have it picked up because it was on the waiting list. 

“I’ve been quite busy with the move and everything,” he reminds her, waving a hand at her to continue. 

She huffs but goes on. “_ Anyway, _ my story is basically a version of them but they’re badass ladies. The only thing about the original stories that I can’t stand is all the _ boys, _ like _ they’re _ the only ones that can save the world, like I’m expected to believe they can travel around the country _ that _ much and never ask for directions.” 

Castiel isn’t sure if he should be insulted or not. 

“So my story is pretty much femslash… without all the slash. Since it’s for my final grade.” She shrugs and pulls a blanket over the now sleeping Pug. Castiel’s getting more confused, but he thinks he’s getting the gist of it. 

“I’d be happy to read anything before you turn it in.” He may not know what it’s about, but Castiel isn’t bad with a red pen, especially if it’s for a class assignment. 

Claire brightens at his offer. “Thanks uncle, I’ll give it to you when I’m done. In fact, I think I’ll grab another cup of coffee and go work on it while this guy naps.” 

Castiel nods and turns back to his shelves, grinning when he finally finds what he’s looking for. He’s reaching for the book when thin arms circle his waist, and Claire is hugging him hard from behind. He pats her hand as she squeezes him and then she’s gone without another word. Castiel can’t help but feel lucky that he has such an amazing niece, as incorrigible as she can be. If it wasn’t for her, he thinks his life would be rather unhappy and he’s very glad they have her in their lives. 


	11. Chapter 11

“Claire, come on,” Castiel calls, all but ready to leave Claire behind. He may be perpetually late, but today, he has a schedule to stick to if he’s going to have enough time to see Dean before they have to report in to Garth for their assigned spot behind the co-op tables. 

Castiel spent a good part of yesterday afternoon studying up on various in season fruits and vegetables, even bookmarking a few sites on his phone for emergencies. They’re only working an hour so it seems silly to think he’ll need it but regardless, Castiel likes to be prepared. And when it comes to the schedules of others,  _ on time. _

“Claire—” 

His niece, hair thrown in a bun and still wearing the sweatpants she slept in, skids into the living room and cuts him off, rambling apologies. She overslept, despite the repeated alarms and knocks on her door that Castiel delivered, once he and Pug returned from their morning walk. 

Now, they’re waiting by the door and Castiel’s finally pushed away the ridiculousness he was hanging on to after being disappointed that Dean wasn’t downstairs that morning. He didn’t see him at all and Castiel walked  _ slow.  _ Slow enough even for Pug to look back at him a few times to see why he was taking so long. 

Castiel isn’t  _ proud _ of himself but it is what it is and now it doesn’t matter because once they get out the door, his next stop will be Dean’s table. 

Too bad the universe has other plans. 

First, Claire and Pug take their time on their way to the park. Everyone seems to be slow going today, much to Castiel’s annoyance. They make it to the market and pass the first few stalls before Castiel hears his name being called by a familiar tinkle of a certain Scottish accent he knows and adores. 

He sees that Claire and Pug are engrossed in the new wares of the pet clothing vendor so Castiel fixes a pleasant look on his face before approaching Rowena’s table alone. “Flowers & Herbs” is spelled out in beautiful hand-drawn lettering on a banner that’s tied to the front. He didn’t know she set up a table at the farmer’s market so this is a nice surprise, despite it keeping Castiel from his end goal. 

“Hello, Rowena, how are you this morning?” 

“Sales are up,” she announces, smiling wide at him, her lipstick as red as the frame of her sunglasses. They match the gorgeous red evening gown she’s wearing, which, under normal circumstances, Castiel might find strange but for Rowena, sitting under her white parasol and surrounded by her plants and flowers, it’s what Castiel’s grown accustomed to and a lot of what he likes about his neighbor. “And I thought you might want to make a purchase of your own.” She tips her sunglasses down to look up at him, her hazel eyes mischievous as she leans in and lowers her voice. “Maybe a gift for a certain green-eyed fella?” 

She sits back with a twist of a smile on her lips and pushes her sunglasses back up. It seems as if Ellen was right about Rowena knowing all that goes on in the neighborhood and he and Dean haven’t been exactly subtle, kissing on his front patio. Rowena isn’t wrong though, the thought of bringing Dean a flower along with what he already has for him making Castiel even more excited to get to Dean’s table. 

“Do you have any suggestions?” Castiel suspects that she’s expecting this question and he’s validated when she pulls out a single, bright red flower with round petals that come to a point on both ends, leaving a dark spot in the middle. It’s lovely and so fragrant, the smell familiar but not something Castiel can place. He brings it closer to get a deeper whiff. 

“It’s a red gardenia, quite rare actually. I have a friend who sends me their clippings in exchange for certain things he needs. You know, business things.” Her smile stays sly and Castiel just nods, definitely not wanting her to unpack that statement. “It’s going to compliment those freckles nicely.” 

Castiel coughs and tries to hide his blush by pulling his wallet from his back pocket. “What do I owe you?” 

She laughs and waves him away. “Your money is no good here darlin’, I only accept in trade.”

Castiel has no idea what he could give to Rowena and the idea of  _ owing _ her doesn’t quite sit right.

“Aye, stop thinking so loud laddie, I’m not asking for your first  _ born _ or anything, just don’t be surprised if I come by and need your help to change a lightbulb or something of the sort.” 

Okay, that Castiel can handle. His first born, that’s crazy. He gives her a wry look as if he knew all along what she meant. “I’m always happy to help.” 

“I know.” She pats his arm and gives him a little push as he puts his wallet away. “Have fun, say hello to your beau for me.” 

Cheeks still warm, he rejoins Claire and Pug still looking at clothes. Pug’s wearing the onesie Dean made him and Castiel can’t help but admire it. He was excited to put it on him this morning so Dean could see him in it. It fits Pug perfectly, and rainbows are always complimentary to his tiny pink face. 

They’ve picked out a new shirt to add to Pug’s collection, this one with the cute saying:  _ To Do List: Eat, Sleep, Repeat  _ written in a black script on yellow fabric. Thinking Pug’s soon to have more clothes than him, Castiel tucks the tiny shirt into his new bag, the gift from Dean slung across his chest, the pouch holding a small snack container, a roll of Pug’s waste bags, and Dean’s surprise, with lots of room to spare. 

Castiel took almost an hour this morning arranging and rearranging his pins until they were perfect. He smooths a hand over them now, hoping to calm his pounding heart as they get closer to Dean’s booth. He can see the three tables and there’s music playing that gets louder as they approach.

Each pulse of the bass disturbs the butterflies that have taken up residence in Castiel’s stomach ever since Dean came into his life, so it’s only fitting that Dean’s bright smile makes them all launch into a frenzy and Castiel is almost surprised at how excited he is to be close to Dean again. 

Pug appears to feel the same when he sees his friend and Claire drops the leash to allow him to hurry over, Dean picking him up with ease and giving him a little cuddle, before high-fiving Claire in greeting, who just winks at Castiel over her shoulder before ignoring them in favor of checking out what Ash is selling this week. 

Castiel thanks the heavens she’s decided to restrain herself from teasing either of them, given their upgraded status from just being friends. If this is her way of apologizing for her tardiness, Castiel will take it. 

He hides the flower Rowena gave him behind his back.

Dean looks very handsome today. He’s wearing his hat again but with it, a red t-shirt that’s covered by a loose denim, the sleeves rolled up. He has a lot of denim, Castiel’s noticing, and of course, he looks incredible in all of it. 

One of Dean’s wrists has a red bandana tied around it, and Castiel’s mouth feels dry at the sight of it, no idea why that’s so  _ attractive _ . 

Despite all that, it’s Dean’s lovely smile that makes Castiel’s heart beat the fastest, the way he looks at Castiel like he hasn’t seen him in forever, like an old friend might. He steps right into Castiel’s personal space with Castiel’s pig in one arm, to place a warm hand on his waist before pressing a soft kiss to the side of his mouth in greeting.

Castiel leans into and returns the easy kiss, his heart now flipping around happily in his chest at Dean’s casual intimacy. The truth is, Castiel’s been nervous all morning about seeing Dean here, in a space that’s much more  _ his _ than the safety of Castiel’s patio and he wasn’t quite sure how Dean would react to seeing him. 

“Good morning to two of my favorite guys,” he murmurs as he pulls back, smile warm. “Sleep okay?” 

“We did, thank you.” Castiel nods and returns his smile softly. “And you?” He was in bed last night reading when Dean sent him a goodnight text, wishing him and Pug sweet dreams with a promise to see them the next day and Castiel’s hands shook as he responded, thanking Dean and wishing him the same and  _ meaning _ it, the words not feeling like an empty sentiment, not after Dean went out of his way to say goodnight. 

“Slept  _ awesome,”  _ he replies, taking a small step back to bring Pug between them as if to address them both. “Even better knowing I was gonna get to see you two today.” Pug snorts and sticks his nose into Dean’s cheek and it makes him laugh. “Oh, is that so? Well, I missed you too little dude. You’re looking sharp in your new threads.” Emerald eyes dance over the top of Pug’s head when Dean glances at him, his eyes flicking to look Castiel up and down. “Dad’s out here lookin’ all hot too.” 

Heat blossoms in Castiel’s belly and he actually has to look down because he’s forgotten what he’s wearing. Looking at his grey t-shirt and relaxed jeans, Castiel’s confused at what’s so hot about his appearance. The morning promised a warm afternoon and Castiel knew he’d be given a shirt for his volunteer shifts and he didn’t want to deal with the hassle of removing layers in favor of just putting that shirt over another. 

Flustered, he smooths his shirt down where it’s bunching around the strap of his bag and Dean makes a delighted noise. “You’re using your bag!” He reaches out and brushes a few of the pins with his fingertips. “These look great, stellar placement, rainbow on top, very nice. Got a new one in the works for you that’s gonna look great with these.” 

“Dean, you don’t have to keep doing that.” As exciting as it is for Dean to bring him a new pin, Castiel doesn’t know that he deserves all these small treasures but he plans to cherish each one. “But that does remind me…” Shyly, he brings out the pretty red gardenia to present it to Dean. Pug sniffs it for good measure and Castiel has to keep it far enough away from him so he can’t try to eat it. “This is for you.” 

Dean’s eyebrows fly up and his smile grows as he takes the flower and closes his eyes while he smells it. “Got me a flower, Cas? Really?” Dean tips the lid of his hat up. “No one’s ever given me flowers before, so this is awesome.” Dean clears his throat before his grin takes on its familiar playful twist, his eyes dancing. “Guess great minds think alike.” 

Before he explains, Dean spins around to grab something from his table. When he turns back to Castiel, he’s holding out a stalk of deep blue flowers this time, a black ribbon tied around it that flutters in the breeze. Pug tries to sniff but doesn’t get the chance as Dean presents his flowers with a laughing smile. 

“These are really for taking home. But...” He maneuvers himself so he can use his fingers to pluck one flower from the bunch of them and still keep them away from Pug without dropping him and Castiel can’t help but put a hand out, just in case. Dean succeeds fine on his own, however, and turns back to put the stalk down before he’s facing Castiel again, now with his own single flower that he’s twisting between his fingers so it spins. “Reminded me of your eyes when I saw ‘em.” 

The small flower is very pretty, the bright blue petal turning into a lovely purple, a cluster of small yellow petals in the middle. It’s so sweet, Castiel can hardly react before Dean’s stepping closer, and tucking the flower behind his ear, Dean’s fingers lingering to give his earlobe a slight tug before he steps back to admire his work. 

“Does it look okay?” Castiel tilts his head so Dean can see and he tries to contain the smile attempting to split his face because he’s just so  _ happy _ ; a silly, giddy feeling creeping through his bones. 

That feeling intensifies when Dean’s mouth falls open a little as he sucks in a breath and blinks fast, hiding his fluster with a smart grin. “Looks even better than I thought it might.” Dean ducks his head and turns back to grab the flower Castiel gave him, this time letting Pug take a sniff as he hides his blush by that cursed hat again. 

Pulling the flower away, Dean takes another sniff himself and Castiel notes that Rowena was right, the red of the petals does bring out Dean’s freckles and Castiel bets it would look lovely against his orange hair (and Castiel won’t have to frown at his hat anymore).

“Think I should do the same?” Dean bounces his eyebrows. “We could match.”

Castiel pretends to think for a moment (because yes, he wants that very much) before he motions for the flower. “Only if you let me.” He glances at his new nemesis. “And if you lose the hat. Is there a reason you’re wearing it today?” 

Dean scrunches his nose as he hands over the flower and he looks up at the hat as if he can see more than just the underside of the brim. “You don’t like my hat?” 

“No, no, I do, it’s very flattering on you.” Castiel clears his throat. “I just happen to really enjoy your orange hair.” Castiel actually loves the color orange and has a whole drawer of orange underwear that he’ll never own up to if asked. 

Dean's eyes go wide and he rips the hat off his head, tossing it behind him toward his table, with a silly flick of his wrist, leaving his hand open and in the air, making Castiel double-over in laughter. 

“Hat? What hat?” Dean looks at Pug in confusion. “Did you see a hat?” 

Castiel covers his mouth to contain himself and he shakes his head at Dean while he smiles triumphantly and holds his face to the side so Castiel can put the flower behind his ear. “You’re the one who’s gonna have to look at my peach fuzz,” he jokes, his breath catching when Castiel’s fingers brush his temple.

Castiel would be happy to stare at him forever, maybe, if given the chance.

Heart in his throat, Castiel fixes the flower behind Dean’s ear, and hard as he tries not to, his eyes flick to Dean’s and get caught there, Dean’s gaze pinning his. Lost in the moment, Castiel’s hand falls into the curve of Dean’s neck and stays there for only a moment, before a clearing throat has them springing apart. 

“Sorry to uh, interrupt but we gotta go, uncle.” Claire looks anything  _ but _ sorry, her eyebrow raised and a sly, knowing smile on her lips. “It’s almost one and we don’t want to be  _ late. _ ” 

Their volunteer shift. Right. 

Dean’s brow is wrinkled when he looks back at Castiel and he tilts Pug up a little. “What are you guys gonna do with the little dude while you work? Can’t take a pet behind the stalls.” 

Castiel did not think of that at all and his panic mounts. He chastises himself for not being logical and assuming he wouldn’t be able to bring Pug with him during their shift. A pig selling produce. As if that wouldn’t be frowned upon in any society. Checking his watch tells him they do not have enough time to go home and get back before one o’clock. 

He looks at Claire, who looks just as concerned, and then back at Dean, who is already putting Pug down and walking to his table. “Pug can stay with me, help me get me some sales.” Dean looks back and grins at Castiel. “No big deal.” 

Castiel doesn’t want to bother Dean, but that  _ would  _ be rather helpful. And it’s only an hour. 

“Or—” Claire injects. “ _ I _ could stay and  _ you _ could go work my shift, Dean. Me and Pug can probably get you more sales anyway,” she teases. 

“And I can help the kid out!” Ash pops out from behind her, looking just as mischievous about her offer and Castiel can already tell what they’re up to.

He turns to Dean, apology in his eyes. “You really don’t have to, Dean, I can run him home—” 

But Dean’s already handing Pug’s leash over to Claire and Castiel snaps his mouth closed. Dean digs a tiny pair of keys out of his pocket to give her, as well. “For the cash box. I’ll give you fifteen percent of whatever you two sell, that cool?” 

“Hey! I only get ten,” Ash grouches but his smile ruins any actual complaining he’s trying to do. 

“And you’re lucky to get that much,” Dean tells him, grinning before giving him a low five and nudging Claire with a shoulder. “Don’t listen to anything Ash says.” 

“Oh, I’m going to write every single thing down,” she replies, not even hesitating to step behind his table and take a seat on the little stool Dean has back there. 

Dean turns to him. “Ready?” 

Castiel has no idea what just happened. Speechless, Castiel removes his bag and hands it to Claire, in case Pug gets hungry or needs a waste bag. She accepts it and tells him to have fun before she’s ignoring him to talk to Ash and Castiel guesses that’s his cue. One last look at Pug sniffing around the tables and then Dean is taking his hand and pulling Castiel towards the market.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Everything happened really fast and Castiel still isn’t sure it’s all right to just leave Claire in charge of Dean’s art but Dean doesn’t seem to mind, which reminds him. “You don’t have to pay her.”

Dean throws his head back and laughs, squeezing Castiel’s hand. “It’s all good, Cas, Ash and Jo will take care of them.” 

Jo’s records were set up, but Castiel didn’t see her at all. 

“We’ll be relieving her, actually,” Dean tells him, which explains that. “I worked this morning and she took over for me.” He uses his free hand to pull open one side of his denim shirt, showing off the Co-op’s logo, a corner of his mouth tipping up. “She’s gonna laugh when she sees me again.” 

Learning he’s making Dean work again makes Castiel feel even more guilty and he pulls at his shirt nervously. “You really don’t have to do this, Dean I didn’t know—” 

“Hey, hey,” Dean tugs his hand and slows them to a stop, leading Castiel to the side of the path so they won’t block any of the other people walking through. They’ve almost made it to the stalls and Castiel can see Garth from here, smiling behind his table. Dean turns them so he’s blocking Castiel’s view and he tilts his head to catch Castiel’s eye. “Maybe I  _ want _ to, ever think of that?” 

There’s no hesitation in his step when he closes the space between them, hand still holding Castiel’s steadily. His other hand drifts up and down Castiel’s bare arm, the bandana dragging against his skin and making Castiel shiver. Castiel can only lift his head and accept the kiss Dean’s leaning in to give him, his lips warm as he flutters kiss after kiss over Castiel’s mouth, his cheeks, his brow, and even the tip of his nose until Castiel is huffing and smiling, one hand curled into the front of Dean’s denim. 

Castiel is sure that his joy is radiating off of him. 

Dean must feel it, his smile pressing against the curve of Castiel’s jaw before he’s pushing their foreheads together, his face turning serious, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I—I really like you, Cas,” Dean stutters, nerves making his voice shake, his confession almost unsure.

A spike of absolute bliss runs through Castiel and he wants to kiss Dean’s uncertainty away this instant because hearing Dean tell him how he feels is everything to him. It’s felt like he’s spent the last few days wondering how in the world this is even his life, and now Dean’s here and he  _ likes _ Castiel back. 

Too bad he doesn’t get a chance to tell Dean he feels the same because the moment Castiel opens his mouth, they’re interrupted by a shout from behind him. 

“Dean! Is that Castiel with you?” 

Dean appears pained to tear his eyes away from Castiel but he does, putting on a large grin and waving at Garth, the moment between them left in the dust as Dean leads him over to Garth, fingers still intertwined. 

“Afternoon, guys.” Garth only glances at their hands for a second before a huge grin splits his face. “Sunday treating you well?” 

“Gonna be treating  _ you  _ well, buddy. You got me back here to work with Cas.” Dean’s words make Garth smile wider, which Castiel didn’t think possible. In fact, it has to be bordering on painful, it’s so big. 

“Well that is just great news,” Garth says, nodding. “Guess that means you can show him the ropes. Wanna go back on fruit? Jo’s about ready to be done.” He looks at Castiel. “Unless you guys prefer the gourds?” 

Castiel tilts his head and Dean just shakes his head and huffs. “We’ll take the fruit, Garth. People get picky about their squash.” 

Garth nods like it’s true and Castiel coughs to hide his amusement. Grinning, Garth just keeps looking between them until they both give him different looks, Castiel’s confused and Dean’s very pointed, until he has to pluck at his shirt to remind Garth why they’re there. 

“Oh! Right, Castiel’s shirt!” Twisting behind him, Garth grabs a few folded shirts and hands them to Castiel. “One for Claire for next time. I’ll send someone in an hour to relieve y’all.” He gives them a little wave, smile not wavering. “Have a good time!” 

Their dismissal reminds Castiel that he wants to finish their discussion, but he soon finds that won’t be happening anytime soon. The moment they turn away from Garth, it’s a whirlwind of action, of people wanting their attention from the moment Castiel scrambles to put his volunteer shirt on over his grey tee. He doesn’t realize it knocked his flower free until Dean’s there with it, and putting it back behind Castiel’s ear with a small, shy smile. 

They send Jo on her way and then it’s just questions, and sales, and making sure to restock the apples when they run out or grab more bags from the vegetable section. The entire hour they work, Dean helps Castiel with whatever he needs, always with a soft smile and when he can, light touches to Castiel’s back or arms. 

It’s a constant comfort and throughout it all, Castiel prays for even a moment of quiet between them so he can gladly tell Dean that he feels the same. The longer he goes without getting to do this, the longer Castiel has to get nervous about it. 

Which is silly, because it was  _ Dean _ that said it first and Castiel is now in a position to reciprocate that sentiment which is how he reminds himself to stay as calm as he can while they finish their shift. It also helps that whenever his eyes find Dean, he’s usually looking at Castiel with a soft expression that turns Castiel’s insides into complete and utter mush, finished off by the shy smile Dean always gives Castiel when he’s caught. 

Castiel can feel himself falling. 

Soon, a few people in their own red shirts arrive, signaling the end of their shift. Garth is all smiles when they stop by his table to have their hour signed off, Dean insisting his get credited to Castiel’s account, as Claire’s proxy. 

“I’m way over anyway,” Dean tells him, immediately taking Castiel’s hand. “Anything you want to grab before we go back?” 

Castiel does have a shopping list and together they stroll through the isles, Deannot letting him go as they buy Castiel’s weekly groceries. Dean makes him laugh when he tries to juggle a few apples, only dropping all three one time before he gets the hang of it. When he bows at the end of his performance, it knocks his flower askew and a light pink blush dusts his cheeks when Castiel reaches out to straighten it. 

It’s beyond wonderful to take their time walking back to Dean’s table and Castiel only feels a little selfish at how long they’re taking. If there was a problem, Claire would have called him by now and his silent phone pushes those thoughts away. They’ve both slowed down considerably and while it’s true that earlier, he was anxious for a moment to talk to Dean, now that Castiel’s running out of them, he’s nervous again. 

It’s Dean, however, that stops them before they get to their destination, letting go of his hand to again guide him off the path with a hand in the small of Castiel’s back, gesturing to an empty bench and inviting Castiel to sit. 

“Sorry, I just—I thought we could take a minute—unless you need to get back,” Dean’s flustered, his fingers tapping against his thigh.

Castiel sits and pulls Dean down with him by his sleeve, leaving the groceries on the ground between them. Dean follows, but his knee is bouncing and he keeps running his hands up and down his thighs and it’s almost on instinct that Castiel takes both in his own hands to still them. 

Dean ducks his head. “Sorry, I’m just—you make me nervous.” He pulls one hand free to run it absentmindedly through his hair before he puts it back on top of their joined hands. “I was thinkin’, you know, if I’m ever being too forward or if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me. Sometimes I get excited and forget to ask but I can’t—” Dean leans closer and Castiel does too, his heart filling his throat. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about kissin’ you, or even just holding your hand so I just  _ do _ it which is  _ rude _ —” 

Castiel cuts off Dean’s adorable and enduring ramble with a quick press of his lips. Emerald eyes blink at him, surprised. 

“I really like you too, Dean. And I really like—” Castiel has to clear his throat, his cheeks warming. “I like all those things too, very much and I don’t want you to stop yourself.” 

“Yeah?” A beautiful smile spreads across Dean’s face and it all but takes Castiel’s breath away. “And you’ll tell me if it’s too much?” 

Impossible, but Castiel answers him anyway. “Of course, Dean.” 

“Awesome.” Dean’s arm goes around Castiel’s shoulders. The space between them has dwindled considerably, both of them sliding closer as they talk. “Do you think I could call you? Or we could text more, maybe? Might sound weird, but some people don’t like that kind of stuff.” 

Is Dean suggesting that they can continue to talk while apart? Like Castiel wouldn’t want to immediately partake in such a thing. 

“You can call or text me anytime you’d like. And as long as you don’t mind pig pictures, I could do the same.”

“Hell yeah, I’d like that a lot, but only if you include a few with those baby blues of yours.” Dean’s all smiles when he kisses Castiel and if his life were a fairytale, this would be where the swell of music would begin. The way Dean kisses him, slowly teasing Castiel’s mouth open with small licks sends fire through his veins that turns giddy when he can’t fight back his grin. 

They don’t spend too long on the bench together, but when they part, both of them have kiss-swollen lips and some of Castiel’s hair is sticking up in the back. Dean grins when he pushes it down with a kiss and an apology for his over-enthusiasm. When they finally stand, he slings an arm over Castiel’s shoulders, making a grabbing motion with his hand so Castiel has to  _ reach up _ and hold it and while it may not be the  _ most  _ comfortable of positions, it does make it the most clear that they are, in fact, holding hands when they return to the tables. 

Pug sees them first and Castiel’s heart lifts when Dean only lets go to scoop him right up and deposit him in Castiel’s arms for a cuddle before leading them to inspect what remains of his business offerings. Castiel kisses the top of Pug’s head, the little pig pushing at his neck as they approach. Ash is nowhere to be seen and Claire is sitting with Jo, the two of them laughing together about something before they notice the two men have returned. When they do, the girls both stand at once, big, matching smiles at his and Dean’s joined hands. 

They only give each other a fond glance before they let go... reluctantly. Dean makes sure to squeeze Castiel’s hand sweetly first. 

“How was business, ladies?” Dean looks around. “Where did Ash get to?” 

Jo crosses her arms over her chest with a smirk. “He’s getting me some lunch from Caesar's truck before they close.” 

“Their line is so long right now, Jo,” he admonishes her playfully. “What did Ash  _ do _ ?” 

Her smirk turns devilish. “He knows what he did.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows and rocks back on his heels before he leans over towards Castiel. “He fucked up.” 

“He did,” Jo confirms before stepping forward with her hand out in greeting. “Let me introduce myself since this ass has no manners.” She glares at Dean who glares back and clicks his tongue at her.

“Hey, there are children present.”

“Claire’s more mature than you,” she retorts. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “I meant the pig.” Castiel fights back a laugh as Dean takes Pug away from him. 

“He’s probably more mature than you, too.” 

Oh, Castiel likes her. She’s very amusing and it’s clear she and Dean are close, if the grin he’s failing to hide is any indication. 

Dean attempts another glare but he mostly fails. “Mind your manners, Joanna Beth, and finish introducing yourself to Cas.”

She rolls her eyes and shoves at his shoulder before sticking her hand out again. “Jo Harvelle, very nice to meet you. I’ve heard lots of good things… from my  _ mom.” _ Another glower thrown Dean’s way that he shrugs off, before he’s turning to speak to Claire. 

Castiel tries not to watch them as he returns Jo’s handshake. “Ellen is your mom?” 

“The one and only.” She squints at him like he’s something she’s never seen before. “She was sure smitten with you.”

Castiel is taken aback. “She—what?” While it was enjoyable to sit with her during the party, Castiel hardly thought he’d made much of any kind of impression that night, except maybe with Dean, but that was for an entirely different reason. 

Jo shrugs, just as confused. “She said you were funny, and you kept Dean in line.” 

“Hey!” 

“Point is, she said you’re welcome anytime over at our place. And after talking to Claire here, you’re welcome to peruse my records too.” She gives him a quick grin before looking around him to address Claire. “Text me, okay Claire?”

“Okay!” Castiel watches Claire watch Jo walk back to her own tables, her blonde ponytail swinging. Claire looks back at him with a grin, remembering the money in her hand and putting it in her pocket proudly. 

He sighs and turns to Dean, reaching out to again straighten his flower and allowing his fingers to linger at the hinge of Dean’s defined jaw before he pulls back. “You didn’t have to pay her, you know.”

“Deal’s a deal, Cas.” Dean leans forward and kisses the tip of Castiel’s nose. “She sold eight paintings for me.” He points at her. “You ever wanna make some more money, let me know. She paid my rent next month with her sales.” 

Castiel’s jaw drops and he looks at Claire who looks entirely too smug. 

“My dad’s in advertising and  _ cute _ sells.” She points at Pug who is trying to reach Dean’s flower, despite how many times Dean pushes him back down. “He’s super cute. And parking him out front makes  _ everyone _ stop.” 

Dean scoops Pug off his shoulder to look at him, eye to eye. “Is that so? Everyone wants to pet you, huh?” 

Pug snorts, blinking fast when they all crack up around him. After that, Claire excuses herself to find a restroom and then, they’re alone again. 

Tucking the pig into the flower-less side of his neck, Dean looks at Castiel and it’s obvious there are thoughts brewing behind his gorgeous eyes. Assessing Castiel, he purses his lips like he’s thinking. “You know, you  _ could _ set up a table next to me.” He nods towards an empty spot in front of his space. It is indeed enough room for a little table and he suddenly envisions them there, every Sunday, selling books next to Dean and his friends and it’s a very appealing thought. 

Castiel tilts his head. “Would we need permission to sell?” 

The happy and hopeful look on Dean’s face twists into something of disgust, his nose wrinkling. “Yeah, you would and the guy you gotta talk to is a total—” 

“A total  _ what _ , Dean Winchester?” 

A rather  _ annoyed  _ voice interrupts Dean and his eyes widen but he schools his face into something charming before he spins to address the small, round man standing behind them. He’s holding a clipboard and has a very squinty, unkempt look to him. 

“Marv,” Dean exclaims, making the man squint more. “I was just about to tell Cas here about those procedures of yours, and what a total  _ stickler  _ you are for them.”

This Marv person rolls his eyes at Dean. “Can it, Winchester.” He squints between Castiel and Pug and for some reason, Castiel wants to step between them so  _ Marv _ can’t even look at his little friend but something tells him to stay where he is, if he’s going to actually set up a table here. 

“Oh I’ve heard of _ you, _ the guy with the pig who owns that dilapidated book store down the street.” 

Castiel bristles. Dilapidated? That’s  _ rude. _

“But I  _ heard _ there was some construction work going on, are you open now?”

Clearing his throat, Castiel wrinkles his brow. “No, but I am getting quite close, most likely before the start of summer.” Marv is half listening, his attention on Pug, now trotting around between their feet, sniffing from shoe to shoe. Dean put him down to do his business and is cleaning it up, now that Pug is done.

Castiel mentally thanks him and continues. “But I am interested in setting up a small table here in the interim, if that’s possible?” Leaning down to pick up Pug, he tries to be subtle in the way he presents his cute friend to the curious man. Putting Pug’s best face forward certainly couldn’t  _ hurt _ him, anyway. 

Dean’s standing behind Marv now, and he flashes Castiel an enthusiastic thumbs up, catching on to his plan rather quickly and making Castiel think he might not be as subtle as he hoped as he forges ahead. 

Marv doesn’t seem to mind, the sharp corners of his eyes softening so slightly, Castiel might not have noticed if he wasn’t hoping for any sign that the man was capable of relaxing. “Long term or short?” 

“I—I’m not sure. Short term, I suppose, for now.” He looks to Dean and receives another thumbs up. 

“It’s twenty-five for the annual permit to sell, and twenty a week to rent the space. Four hundred for six months if you change your mind.” 

Marv begins his spiel about the “do’s and don’ts” of the market in a bored voice and it’s almost comical how quickly Castiel stops listening, his attention drawn to Dean, who is mischievously pantomiming talking with his hand, while he rolls his eyes and mouths  _ blah blah blah _ at Castiel behind Marv’s back. 

It’s near impossible to shoot Dean any kind of serious  _ look  _ to make him stop, given how hard Castiel’s trying not to laugh out loud at his antics. It’s too bad the next thing Marv says grabs both their attentions.

“I think I have a spot for you closer to the market.” He says it in such a sly way, Castiel knows he assumes they were poking fun at him and so does Dean, his face twisting. 

“Aw, come on Marv, let him sit with us, you know there’s plenty of room.” 

Marv narrows his eyes and turns to look between them both. “And what makes you think I want more of  _ your _ kind grouped together, hmm?”

Castiel has no idea what he means by that, but the way Marv is scowling at Dean’s hair and the flower placed in it, he can probably guess. 

“Yeah, yeah,  _ hippies _ , I know, you tell us every week. But  _ Cas _ here, he’s an  _ intellectual. _ ” Dean grins. “You might say him and the pig could bring up the real estate value.” 

“So I can charge you all five bucks more a week?”

Dean blanches, the cocky grin falling off his face for a second before he makes it teasing again. “Aw, be nice to us. Cas is new in town, let him set up here till he gets comfortable at least. Plus, he wants to sell his books.” He points a finger at Marv. “You were just down here last week complaining about Crowley being the only book seller and now you’re turning down a hot guy just trying to make a living selling ‘em? Make up your mind, man!” 

All Castiel can do is watch Dean negotiate his fate and continue to add his follow-up questions to a mental list. 

Preserving Castiel’s belief that Dean can charm  _ anyone _ , Marv agrees to allow Castiel to set his book table up next to Dean’s. He leaves the paperwork and says he’ll collect it next week along with payment and he goes on his way reminding them that they, “can’t get by on their good looks alone,” which has Dean doubling over in laughter after Castiel asks if that was some kind of flirtation. 

Castiel and Claire linger a bit longer, at least until Ash comes back with food and then Dean's talking to him briefly and scooping Pug up from the bushes before returning to Castiel, Claire beside him typing on her phone.

While they were chatting, Jo changed the music and Castiel's been enjoying it, finding himself nodding along occasionally, even if he doesn’t know what’s playing. Dean seems to be enjoying it as well, swaying his hips as he approaches them, dancing Pug in his arms to the music, bouncing his eyebrows, and with a flick of his head, trying to encourage Castiel to join them.

He ducks his head and shakes it, shy now. It's silly but Castiel knows he  _ can't  _ dance and he's not ready to embarrass himself in front of Dean today. Maybe after a few more dates, so Dean is less inclined to be turned off by finding out how awkward Castiel is. The heat rises in his cheeks when he sees the tops of Dean's boots as he steps into Castiel's personal space.

"Hey." Dean leans down some to capture Castiel's attention with his piercing gaze. "None of that now," he says softly, making Castiel look up at him, eyes wide.

Now that he has Castiel's attention, Dean sways his hips back and forth, holding Pug up like he's dancing too. "Come on dad, dance with us." 

Castiel knows that he's a lost cause when it comes to dancing, but something about the way Dean is looking at him makes Castiel want to try just about anything he might ask.

Steeling his resolve and swallowing down his mortification, Castiel begins to move from side to side, doing his best to minimize the jerkiness of his hips and instead concentrate on moving to the beat of the drums and the bass of the song.

It's proven impossible though, by the way Dean is staring at him. There's a slow, gorgeous smile growing on his face as Castiel moves and it’s enough to make him hot under the collar of the two shirts he's wearing, having forgotten to remove his volunteer shirt after their shift. 

Part of Castiel idly wonders what Dean could see in him, probably flushed, definitely a bit sweaty despite being under the trees and he can’t imagine what a wreck his hair must be because when he’s nervous, he messes with it and yet, Dean’s staring at him like Castiel invented his beloved  _ pie _ and all he’s doing is attempting to dance (and failing). 

It doesn’t seem to bother Dean at all though, if the way he chuckles and puts a hand on Castiel’s hip to help him, is any indication. His grip tightens and Castiel gives in to his touch, letting Dean guide him as they grin at each other and try not to step on each other’s feet. 

Pug wiggles in Dean’s arms and they both look down at him and laugh as he tries to chew on the end of the bandana around Dean’s wrist, Castiel pulling it out of his mouth, giving him a little rub on his nose to distract him. 

“I think he likes this song,” Dean says, nodding along. 

Castiel hums in agreement. “It’s very nice.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “But you have no idea what it is.”

“Not a clue,” Castiel deadpans, making Dean laugh. 

He tips Pug up. “Does dad need a lesson in Motown? I think he does.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes but keeps the grin on his face. Unfortunately, it’s probably time for them to head home. Pug is blinking sleepily in Dean’s arms and he knows Claire has her story to write this afternoon but he can’t be blamed for wanting to spend the rest of the day right here by Dean’s side. 

Next weekend. The reminder that Castiel will be here selling with Dean next weekend is all that helps him tell Dean that they have to be going now. 

He looks a little disappointed, but he raises his eyebrows hopefully, anyway. “Cool if I walk you guys home?”

A little ball of warmth blooms in Castiel’s chest and proceeds to bounce around as he nods. “We’d like that, thank you.” The way Dean’s eyes light up makes the warmth explode and spread through him before Dean’s smiling wide and going over to tell Ash his plan. 

Claire raises her eyebrows at him with a wide grin and she looks so delighted, he can only shrug. What is there for Castiel to say? He’s happy. 

He’s happy as they join hands and Dean talks to Claire about his clients as they leave the market. Castiel’s happy as he listens quietly, noting Pug is asleep by the time they reach the edge of the park and honestly, he thinks his feet aren’t even touching the ground, his happiness keeping him afloat. Claire and Dean’s laughter, mixed with Pug’s snores and the backdrop of the city is something Castiel would be happy to listen to for a long time to come. He squeezes Dean’s hand, and yes, with Dean’s warm hand squeezing back, Castiel’s very,  _ very  _ happy. 

Until Claire drops an F-bomb, and freezes in her tracks. 

Jimmy is waiting for them when they arrive home. 

Having been so caught up in the moment, Castiel hardly noticed they  _ arrived _ , let alone the sleek, black town car parked in front and his twin brother standing in a sharp suit on the porch. 

Jimmy’s eyes narrow as he takes them in. 

Claire’s bun has long been sagging, wisps of blonde hair wild around her heart-shaped face. She’s wearing her volunteer shirt, happy to tug it on when Castiel gave it to her to show it off to Jo, Ash, and Dean. Jimmy’s brow furrows when he notices her sweatpants and he turns a full glare onto Castiel, his disdain clear when he looks Castiel up and down.

Oh—but the things that happen to Jimmy’s face as realizes there’s a third person with them, a person he doesn’t know, a person who has orange hair and is also, without a doubt, holding his brother's hand. Castiel thinks it safe to assume he saw them making heart eyes at each other as they walked up too. 

Dean’s hand tightens in his and he swears softly. “There’s two of you?” 

A close to hysterical laugh bubbles out of Castiel and he tries to smother it by dragging a hand over his mouth. He resolves himself and keeps a tight grip on Dean’s hand which is really trying to wiggle its way free but Castiel is determined. 

Claire takes an exaggerated step back to let them pass as Castiel drags Dean over to his brother. 

“Jimmy, I’d like to introduce you to Dean. Dean, this is my twin brother, Jimmy Novak.” Much as he hates it, Castiel lets go of Dean’s hand to allow him to hold it out to Jimmy in greeting. 

For a moment, the blood rushes in Castiel’s ears as Jimmy hesitates. Is he really going to refuse to shake Dean’s hand? Before Castiel can say anything though, his brother grasps Dean’s hand tightly before letting it go. 

“Dean,” Jimmy says with a nod as he takes an obvious step back from them. “I’m actually here to speak to my brother about some private,  _ family _ business so if you don’t mind—” 

“Aww dad, come on—” 

“Now wait just a moment—” 

Claire and Castiel speak at once, both of them perturbed at the nerve of his brother. This is Castiel’s  _ home _ , and  _ he _ dictates who comes and goes,  _ not _ Jimmy. 

It’s Dean that cuts them off, one hand going up in a slightly defensive wave. “Hey man, I get it, I was just walkin’ these guys home but uh, it was real nice to meet you.”

Said as he’s turning, the look he faces Castiel with is one of disbelief and amazement. He leans in to deposit a fast asleep pig into Castiel’s arms. “I think your brother is the evil twin.” 

He pulls back, grinning knowingly at Castiel and it puts Castiel at ease in an instant. How Dean’s able to do it with just the right curl of his lips has Castiel baffled, just as much as he appreciates the way Dean’s taking Jimmy in stride. 

Castiel cups Dean’s cheek and brings them together. The huff behind him turns his blood to ice, but he ignores his brother in favor of kissing Dean firmly, surely, maybe to show him he has no reason to worry about Castiel’s scowly, posturing, idiot twin brother. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you.” Castiel speaks low and quick. 

“What, that you were a twin?”

“No, that he’s the evil one.”

That makes Dean laugh, the beautiful laugh that has him throwing his head back, the long column of his neck exposed and a lot of Castiel’s motivation to make him do it over and over again. 

Dean kisses him one last time with a quick press of his lips before he grins, still laughing a bit. “I’ll call you later, check in, okay?” 

It’s hard to nod when their foreheads are pressed together but Castiel tries anyway and Dean understands because he winks at him, rubs Pug’s head one last time and shoots a finger gun at Claire before he’s gone. 

Castiel watches him before he feels his smile slipping away, thanks to his twin, huffing and puffing behind him. He sighs and turns to face the firing squad. 


	12. Chapter 12

Jimmy is not happy when Castiel turns around. His shoulders are bunched and his scowl is one for the record books, irritation coming off him in waves. 

Castiel looks at his brother warily before he shrugs. “Let’s go upstairs then.” 

It’s a solemn trek on his part, Castiel all but dragging his feet up the stairs, Jimmy stomping his way inside. By the time Castiel catches up, Jimmy is running a critical eye over everything. He hasn’t been here since the last time, when he was too busy shoving contracts in Castiel’s face and picking fights.

Castiel’s settled in now, and it shows. There are shoes by the door and open books over the edge of the couch and it’s obvious that a teenager takes up space as well, Claire’s bright yellow jacket over the back of a chair and her school bag, open by her bedroom door, a few textbooks falling out of it. Castiel vaguely remembers her kicking it on their way out the door this morning. 

“Jimmy, can I offer you something to drink? I have water and tea, hot or cold.” Castiel takes off his bag and hangs it on a hook next to his coat. It’s still heavy and Castiel realizes with disappointment that he forgot to give Dean the book he brought him. 

Shoulders sagging, he goes to the kitchen to deposit the groceries, waiting for his brother to answer. He pours glasses of iced green tea for him and Claire before he clears his throat. “Hey, Jim, something to drink?” He holds up the pitcher when Jimmy finally tears his eyes off Castiel’s bookcase to acknowledge that he’s being spoken to. 

“Oh, no—no, thanks. Hey, where did you get this picture?” He’s looking at the small number of photos Castiel has on display. There’s a frame with Claire’s most current school picture (many of the previous years tucked behind it) next to a frame of Castiel on his graduation day at Washington State, the standard one of him shaking hands with the Dean of Students as he accepts his diploma. It’s his only photo from that day, having gone home right after the ceremony. 

It happened that Cornell and Washington’s graduations were on the same weekend and Chuck had gone to Jimmy’s, the travel costs pale compared to what it would have cost for him to fly to Washington. 

The most recent photo is of him and Pug the day Pug was adopted and brought into Castiel’s life. It was a fun thing the shelter offered and Hannah had presented Castiel with his framed copy a few days later. He’s standing proudly on the stoop of the shelter, his brand new friend small enough to fit into Castiel’s cupped hands and he has a great big smile on his face, Pug’s tiny snout tipped up into the dip of his chin. He was tickling Castiel at the time and the photo brings a smile to Castiel’s face every time he looks at it. 

It’s sitting next to a smaller photo in an old frame, a photo Castiel’s had forever. It’s him and Jimmy, arms slung over each other’s shoulders and standing in front of the Statue of Liberty. They can’t be more than five or six years old in the photo and both of them are smiling. If anyone looked at it, they’d never know Castiel was on the left and Jimmy was on the right, distinguishable only by the bag slung over Castiel’s shoulder that he was never without. Otherwise, they are identical, right down to their matching haircuts (courtesy of their uncle). 

Castiel steps up next to Jimmy to look at it with him. “I’ve had that forever, since we lived here. I think you had a copy too, in one of your boxes.” He sips his drink. “It’s made three moves with me.” 

Jimmy hums noncommittally. “I don’t remember.” 

Of course not. Castiel shrugs. “So, what brings you here outside of our appointment time?” 

“Is that an issue?” 

His brother would think him serious. “No,” Castiel huffs. “I’m a normal person who doesn’t require their family to schedule meetings with them.”

Jimmy snorts rudely. “You call orange hair normal?” 

Turning fast, Castiel points a finger at his brother. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist saying something about Dean, I knew it. But I can tell you right now—don’t.” 

He doesn’t want to hear it, Castiel doesn’t want his brother’s opinion on his growing relationship with Dean. They’re too new and Dean’s too special for Jimmy to insult. The last thing Castiel wants is his brother’s short sighted opinions regarding Dean bouncing around in his mind.

Jimmy purses his lips, annoyed. “When were you going to tell me you had a  _ boyfriend? _ How long have you two been carrying on?” 

Castiel rolls his eyes.  _ Carrying on.  _ He swears Jimmy is like an old man sometimes and how they ever shared a womb, Castiel will never know. Ignoring his questions, he looks at Jimmy pointedly. He’s here for some reason, and Castiel would really like for him to get to it, rather irritated that his thus far perfect day has taken such a turn. 

“You don’t think I’m entitled to know who you’re bringing around my daughter?”

Castiel’s jaw drops. Who  _ is _ this person? “What’s your  _ problem, _ ” he blurts out. “Do you honestly think I’d have anyone in my life who I thought could harm Claire?” 

At the sound of her name, Claire pops out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her and Castiel’s thankful for the small favor of Pug sleeping through this nonsense. She sits on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, clearly angry. 

“Dean is a nice guy dad, and his hair is cool. He’s an artist and he’s really nice to Uncle Cas so just leave them alone.”

Warmth spreads through Castiel’s veins as Claire shares her observation, complimenting Dean and defending them in the same breath. 

“That doesn’t mean he’s not capable—” 

“Stop.” Castiel refuses to let his brother finish that sentence. Whatever he means to say is baseless and therefore,  _ useless  _ to him and to this moment. He will not stand here and listen to Jimmy disparage a man he knows nothing about, especially one who brings so much color and magic to their lives. “I’ve known Dean for almost as long as I’ve been back. We became friends when I hired him to walk Pug and now—” 

Now, Castiel’s not quite sure, but that’s not for Jimmy to know so he squares his shoulders before he continues. “And now we’re dating.” 

Jimmy actually rolls his eyes and now he’s two for two on visiting and making Castiel want to cause him bodily harm. He clenches his fist and tries to keep it at his side. He can’t punch Jimmy in front of his daughter, anyway. 

“Dean is responsible, funny, and the kindest man I know and I will not permit you to stand in my home and insinuate anything about him.”

Claire’s nodding along as Castiel talks and it’s annoying his brother, but Castiel doesn’t care. “You will keep your comments to yourself,  _ James,  _ or I will kindly ask you to leave.”

A large muscle in Jimmy’s jaw flexes and for a moment, Castiel thinks it might be  _ him _ that gets hit. Jimmy’s deep, blue eyes are calculating as he decides on his answer and at this point in their relationship, Castiel has no idea how his twin will react.

“You’d kick me out over some guy you just met?” Jimmy shakes his head. “No wonder the store isn’t open yet, you’re too busy making googly eyes at some weirdo from the village instead of making sure our uncle’s legacy is taken care of.” 

“Are you kidding?” Castiel is absolutely floored at the gall of his brother. “You must be because if I remember correctly, you didn’t want any part of the store or am I getting that wrong? Am I getting that wrong?” He looks to Claire for confirmation—which he gets—before he’s cocking an eyebrow at Jimmy. “But now you’re worried.” 

Jimmy narrows his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You hate to be told what to do.”

“ _ You _ hate to be reminded that you’re a dick.” Castiel’s eyes widen as the insult slips out and it even shocks Jimmy enough for him to drop his glare. 

Too bad it comes back just as quickly. “I can tell your new boyfriend is really a great influence on you. Next he’ll have my daughter talking like that.” 

“Oh jeez dad, I already do.” Claire stands. “You two are being dumb about nothing. Why can’t you just mind your business?” She turns towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna put the groceries away.” 

Jimmy scowls at her back as he opens his coat to remove a blank, white envelope. “Claire.” His tone leaves her no choice but to turn back, her face apprehensive. 

Castiel’s nerves prickle under his skin. 

“Did you know I work with the man whose wife is in charge of admissions at NYU?” 

Oh, this is bad. Claire knows it too, her eyes as big as saucers as her dad opens the envelope. 

“I seem to remember asking you to request to be removed from their lists and yet, when I asked my friend to follow up on that for me, I receive this information?” 

Unfolding the paper inside, Jimmy passes it to Claire before Castiel can get a good look, only recognizing what looks like some form to fill out. 

Claire makes a choking sound when she opens it to read what it reveals, and furious blue eyes turn on him. “How dare you dad, you can’t  _ do _ this, you can’t just have your buddy hack into my file.” 

Jimmy did  _ what? _ Castiel takes the paper out of Claire’s shaking hands to see for himself. Horror comes over him as he recognizes his address on what looks like an online questionnaire for more information about admissions. He looks at his brother in shock. 

Jimmy looks nothing but smug as he answers Claire. “You’re right, because it’s deleted now.” He won’t even look at Castiel. 

A lot happens at once. Claire screams in rage and rips the paper away to tear it to pieces. Castiel lunges for his twin but Jimmy’s dodges him, going around Castiel’s sofa and he must work out because Jimmy’s still too fast for Castiel to catch. Castiel’s trying to work out the best way to get to him when a very frantic scratching stops them all, Pug awake thanks to the ruckus they just made. Claire uses the opportunity to run to his room, catching him before he can come into the living room, and shutting the door behind her.

It’s obvious to both brothers that she’s crying. 

Castiel clenches his jaw and looks sharply back at his twin, who is straightening his stupid suit that probably costs more than Castiel’s mortgage. His anger spikes. “Why are you like this, Jimmy? Doesn’t it bother you to crush her hopes and dreams so callously?” Castiel is no longer trying to keep his voice down. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Castiel. You’re always trying to use your drama to distract from the actual problem,” Jimmy spits out. He side steps closer to the front door. “Now would you stop trying to chase me, you’re acting like an idiot.” 

Castiel wonders if his insurance covers him if he tosses Jimmy down the stairs. 

Narrowing his eyes, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Why won’t you allow Claire to pursue NYU? She is  _ sixteen _ Jimmy, she can still change her mind but now is the time for her to figure stuff out.” He takes another step closer to his brother, but Jimmy has nowhere to go now and he’s at least smart enough to look nervous. 

“Listen, Castiel, I’m not here to discuss this with you. My daughter’s future is very much none of your business and I’m here because I  _ know _ you encouraged her to use your address.” He points an accusing finger at Castiel. “The very idea stinks of your self-righteousness.” Jimmy drops his hand and sighs, as if insulting Castiel is a downright chore to him and all Castiel can see is red.

Jimmy doesn’t even see his punch coming. Castiel himself doesn’t even realize it’s happening until his fist is connecting with Jimmy’s nose, the blood roaring in his ears and buzzing in his brain making everything else fuzzy. It’s not the hardest punch Castiel’s ever thrown, but it’s been some time, and the way Jimmy’s head snaps to the side and the bloody nose that follows is damn satisfying, if Castiel’s being honest. 

Chests heaving, the twins stare at each other and Castiel waits for the retaliation and hopes nothing gets broken in the altercation that’s about to ensue. He tenses his shoulders and gets ready to block his brother’s incoming punch but all he gets is a death glare to end all death glares. 

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Castiel, what are you thinking?” Jimmy hisses when he pinches his nose and digs a handkerchief out of his pocket, pressing it to his nostrils. “How can you possibly think that was appropriate? And everyone wonders  _ why _ I don’t want you as a role model for my daughter.” 

It’s about the meanest thing Jimmy could say to Castiel and it’s probably close to what he deserves for hitting him, but not quite. Embarrassment burns in his chest and Jimmy doesn’t give him a chance to retort. 

“I will not have her ending up like you, wasting the prime of her life chasing a dream, only to give up on it and settle. And now what? You’re no better off here, and now you have a huge financial responsibility, along with an entire building to maintain and, oh right, a  _ pig _ and an orange haired  _ artist _ as a boyfriend.” He tips his head back to dab at his nose, looking over at Castiel. “Hardly something for a girl as bright as Claire to aspire to.” 

Castiel has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying. He knows his life hasn’t been what he thought it might be, but that doesn’t grant Jimmy allowance to throw it in his face as if he’s completely failed at everything, not just up until now but going forward, as well. 

He didn’t realize his brother despised him so much and the realization makes something crack in his chest. 

“Castiel, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I’m simply letting you know that Claire will not be pursuing any programs at NYU this summer. We’ll be traveling abroad for most of it, almost until the school year starts again.” 

Pug’s bedroom door is flung open, Claire stalking out and Pug on her heels, his tail flipping as he makes a beeline for Castiel, not even hesitating to try to climb up his leg. The tiny pig is shuddering when Castiel picks him up. Claire’s taken him out of his onesie and it’s upsetting Castiel further to see him frightened. He turns away from his brother who is still dabbing at his face (now who is being dramatic) so Castiel can grab a blanket from Pug’s pile and wrap it around his friend. 

Pug’s grateful snorts as he burrows make the tears in the corner of Castiel’s eyes burn. 

Claire, however, is on the warpath, standing right in her dad’s face. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m staying here this summer, I am  _ not _ going to Europe, you can’t make me.” Her face twists in pain as she shakes her head vehemently.

“It’s already done, Claire. There won’t be any further discussion.” Jimmy looks down at her calmly, his nose no longer bleeding. 

She looks murderous. “I’m glad Uncle Cas hit you.” 

Castiel flinches. 

Jimmy draws in a sharp breath. “Get your stuff. You’re coming home with me.” 

“No!”

Pug shudders under the blanket and Castiel holds him tighter as Jimmy and Claire face off in his foyer.

“Right now, Claire Marie, before I refuse to let you come back at all.” 

That threat makes Castiel feel like he’s going to be sick. Jimmy wouldn’t do that, would he? He finally steps between them because he has to put a stop to this, even if it means being the one to apologize. “Jimmy, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I hit you but you don’t have to threaten Claire with that, please.” 

Jimmy’s glower doesn’t falter. “She’s coming with me.” The set of Jimmy’s jaw tells Castiel there’s no changing his mind and he looks back at Claire with as much of an encouraging glance as he can, trying to ignore the tears that slip down her cheeks, each one shaving off another sliver of Castiel’s heart. 

He doesn’t know how the three of them got here. 

“Claire,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. He tries to clear it from his throat. “Get your stuff and go with your dad.”

“But uncle,  _ please,”  _ she begs, and the first tear makes its way down Castiel’s cheek. 

“It’s okay.” He needs a steadying breath before he goes on. “It’s going to be okay.” 

Claire doesn’t look like she believes him at all and honestly, Castiel hardly does himself but it needs to be said. She needs his reassurance and in his heart, he knows Jimmy would never do such a cruel thing to either of them. 

A tiny voice in his head disagrees and he ignores it. 

Claire doesn’t hide her anger and frustration or the tears that are streaming down her face as she stuffs her books in her bag, pushing past her dad to grab her computer off the table and her jacket from the chair. 

She drops her stuff by the door where Jimmy’s still waiting and ignores him in favor of turning and crushing Castiel in a huge hug, Pug squished between them. She sniffs as she pulls away, only so she can push through the folds of the purple blanket to find Pug and scoop his little face up to kiss his nose. 

“Love you, baby boy,” she murmurs. “Love you uncle.” 

And then she’s gone, her footsteps pounding down the stairs as she runs out of the building. 

Jimmy clears his throat and it makes Castiel  _ and _ Pug flinch. “I won’t forbid her from coming over, but I will limit her time a bit, now that school’s ending and finals are approaching. You understand.”

Its utter horseshit and they both know it but Castiel nods tightly, anyway. He just wants Jimmy out of his house now. 

“I’m sorry my words upset you, Castiel.” Jimmy doesn’t appear sorry at all. “Sometimes hearing the truth can be difficult.” 

Yes, his brother isn’t sorry in the slightest. It’s too bad he doesn’t linger so Castiel can share a few  _ truths _ of his own with Jimmy. Instead, he just stares at the front door clicking shut, the sound of Jimmy’s fading footsteps the last thing he hears of his twin brother. 

“Cancel my appointment, asshole,” he mutters before he drops onto his couch. He flexes his hand and winces at the twinge of pain in his knuckles; Jimmy’s stupid hard face probably bruised a bone or something. Maybe Castiel can  _ sue _ him. 

Pug worms his way out of his blanket so he can walk back and forth on the couch, his nap having recharged his tiny pig energy somewhat, the quiet finally settling his nerves. Sighing, Castiel stands and scoops Pug off the couch, only to deposit him in his pen so he can play there while Castiel puts the groceries away, still sitting on the counter, abandoned. 

He can’t stop the curl of anger in his belly as he unloads the bags. How dare Jimmy, how  _ dare  _ he come here and be so destructive, only to leave everything burning in his wake. His hands shake as he puts vegetables in the crisper and Castiel can’t fathom when his brother became so cold, so insensitive, not only to Castiel but to his own daughter _ . _

He folds the bags from the market absentmindedly, Jimmy’s description of his life on a loop in his mind. 

_ Has  _ Castiel given up on his dreams? Jimmy accused him of settling and yes, for a while, in Washington, he felt settled, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Bellingham was nice, Castiel was comfortable there and he had zero complaints, even less after he got Pug but he never felt like he had failed _ ,  _ but damn if Jimmy didn’t make it seem that way. 

So his book never got published, big deal. He’s made up for that in droves with his work at the library and now, on the cusp of re-opening a bookstore. 

And coming back to New York felt right and that’s why it was an easy decision to make, not because Castiel was unhappy being away or because he didn’t make it as a writer. Jimmy wouldn’t know that. He assumes Castiel’s here because he had nothing better and according to Claire, he’s counting down the days until Castiel gives up. She overheard him talking to Amelia about the bookstore a few weeks back. Castiel had taken a lot of what she said at the time with a large grain of salt, considering Claire blurted the information out during a rant about her dad. 

Now he knows she wasn’t exaggerating. 

It hurts. As much as Castiel wishes Jimmy’s words didn’t bother him, they do. Time and distance have altered their relationship, Castiel already knew that, but never in a million years would he believe his brother  _ disliked  _ him and thought him a failure. Never mind the things he had to say about Pug and Dean. 

It’s so disheartening to think Jimmy doesn’t trust his judgement when it comes to Dean. Sure, his hair is unique, but it’s hardly a thing Castiel notices most of the time, unless he’s changed it or the light catches it in just the right way. Sometimes Dean runs his hand through it and that can be a distraction but— 

Castiel flushes as he realizes he’s been distracted from being angry at his brother by thoughts of Dean. Dean, with his kind heart and generosity—his brother would be  _ lucky _ to know Dean. 

Grumpy now, he checks on Pug and decides to strip and wash all the linens, Claire’s room included. She’ll need fresh sheets when she returns and Castiel wouldn’t mind sleeping in clean, crisp sheets tonight, a small comfort, considering. 

Stripping the beds and hauling everything down to the basement works to distract him enough but once he’s down there, and trying to ignore all the boxes that need unpacking, his thoughts wander back to his brothers immediate and incorrect assumptions about Dean. 

It’s just Castiel’s luck, too. Right as he’s believing that maybe it  _ is  _ possible that he and Dean could be really happy together, that he could deserve that with someone like him—after so long—well, it's only natural his brother would come along and criticize it. 

Jimmy’s been married to Amelia forever, he hasn’t had to worry about having a partner, about having someone to back him up, to spend his time with, someone to come home to every night. Castiel’s pretended for a long time that he’s okay with being a perpetual bachelor, but now that he and Dean have started dating, he realizes how much he was lying to himself just as much as everyone else. 

It was just that after what happened with Inias, Castiel had a very hard time being vulnerable with anyone again. 

They met in their junior lit class and it was Castiel’s first experience with being pursued, Inias asking him for coffee after their first week of class together. When Inias took him somewhere that only served coffee and no tea, Castiel should have taken it for the bad omen that it was. 

Instead, that first date turned into many which turned into the two of them dating the entire year. The summer before their senior year, Inias took Castiel home to see where he grew up and as they sat together under the fireworks, Castiel was sure Inias was going to propose. It seemed like the logical next step, after they spent such a wonderful week with his family, all of them so nice and accepting of their relationship. They’d even put a down payment on an apartment together for their senior year so yes, Castiel was prepared to accept his proposal.

But Inias never asked. They went back to school and moved into their place and when the new semester started, Inias threw himself into his thesis work. He was majoring in forestry and had created an entire ecosystem overhaul, his plan ensuring the survival of large parts of the Pacific Northwest and Canadian forests. Castiel was so proud of the work he was doing and when they talked about their future, it was with Castiel swearing he’d be happy to write anywhere Inias needed to work. 

He thought they had a future together. 

Then Inias started withdrawing. He’d miss planned dinners, leaving Castiel to eat alone while he wrapped a plate for Inias to eat when he returned. On the nights he didn’t come home, he would always let Castiel know it was because he fell asleep in the lab, or crashed on a friend’s dorm couch and at the time, Castiel had his own dissertation to worry about, so it took longer than it should have for him to realize that something was off between them. 

When the holidays approached, Castiel threw himself into celebrating them, with decorating their home and making sure everything was festive, simply in an attempt to draw Inias back to him, hoping the comforts of home would be enough. 

It even worked, temporarily. After a Thanksgiving dinner with friends that Inias missed, he tried to make it up to Castiel by going all in with him about Christmas. It might have helped that they had a huge blow up fight about Thanksgiving that ended with Castiel in tears and Inias promising to spend more time at home. 

It was the best December Castiel can remember having. They did every cliche Christmas thing, Inias taking Castiel ice skating and insisting they chop down their own Christmas tree. Every night they spent in front of their fireplace, sipping cider while watching Christmas movies and listening to Christmas music. It’s the only time Castiel would indulge in those things which made them even more special. 

Castiel thought for sure that they would go back to school engaged this time. 

And then, Inias told him he wouldn’t be able to take Castiel home with him over Christmas break. He told him the morning they were meant to leave, a cab already there to take him to the airport by the time Castiel’s alarm went off. He left before Castiel could get a straight answer aside from there being some kind of minor family emergency and for Castiel not to worry. 

He didn’t answer any of Castiel’s phone calls. He didn’t return any of his text messages. On the third day of this, he called Inias’ childhood home, only to be told by his sister that he wasn’t home, that he’d call him back, that Inias was helping their mom, or in the garage with their dad and after a week of excuses, Castiel stopped calling. 

The day before school was to start again, the moving van arrived before Inias did and seeing him hurrying up the walkway to their apartment, the van behind him, made Castiel lose his breakfast in their living room. 

Inias acted like it wasn’t his fault. He said he tried, he’d tried hard to be with Castiel, had thrown himself into their relationship but realized that it didn’t matter, that it wasn’t working. 

“You should be with someone who loves you back, Cassie.” 

That’s how he left him, with a half empty closet and a broken heart and the knowledge that Inias didn’t love him, that he didn’t want to marry him or even be with Castiel at all… and he never really did.

It took Castiel a very long time to be okay again, to feel like he wasn’t constantly on the verge of tears. His senior year was horrible, and it was especially painful to return to class and a week in, see Inias exiting their favorite cafe, holding hands with another man. 

It was then that Castiel lost his faith in love, Inias’ rejection of him too much to bear. And it wasn’t until a man with wild hair and gentle eyes came into his life that Castiel believed he might not have to live the rest of his life this way, without his own great love. 

He knows it must be true because in the two years he was with Inias, Castiel never felt even a shred of the happiness that he feels when he’s with Dean. Castiel doesn’t know what that means yet, but he wants to find out. He’s looking forward to his future for the first time in a long time and having his brother come in and shit on that is upsetting him. 

Done with the laundry for now, he locks the front door to the store that his brother didn’t bother locking behind him, and he stomps up the stairs. Pug’s head is already sticking up out of his blankets when Castiel comes inside and he realizes that it’s probably time for his dinner, even if Castiel doesn’t feel much like eating. 

Before Castiel feeds him, he grabs his Walkman from his room and puts on the headphones before pressing play, the last song fading and the chords of  _ Bohemian Rhapsody  _ filling his ears. It helps him relax and he hums along as he feeds Pug his dinner. He flips the tape over when they take their evening walk and Castiel flips it again to cheer himself up after he doesn’t see Dean while they’re out. 

But it reminds him to text Dean and when he takes his phone out, he sees new messages already waiting from him, not just from Dean, but quite a few from Claire. He pulls the headphones off and hooks them around his neck as he opens those messages first, the text stream a long wall of complaints, of sadness and pain and Castiel can’t blame her for being devastated by the way her dad treated her today. 

He types back the best message he can, telling her they’ll figure something out, that Jimmy isn’t going to forbid her to visit him, that he’ll see her soon and when he does, they’ll go to their favorite Ramen place the first night she comes back. 

Waiting a moment for her to answer, but receiving no response, he clicks over to Dean’s message, the warmth he came home with building back up under his skin even before he opens the message. 

Dean’s note is a simple question asking if they’re okay, a kissing heart emoji included. According to the timestamp, he sent it about an hour after he left them and it’s nice to consider Dean was thinking of them. 

Not wanting him to worry another moment in case he is, Castiel types back a reassuring message that he’s doing much better than he was, and that he hopes Dean has a lovely night. He thanks Dean for checking on them with a picture of Pug, now fast asleep on Castiel’s chest. They laid down on the couch to return his texts and Pug didn’t hesitate to find a place to sleep. Still shy about sending Dean a picture of his whole face, Castiel makes sure only his mouth and chin are visible in the photo, Pug asleep against his neck from the angle he takes the picture. 

Castiel worries his bottom lip between his teeth as Dean takes a very long time to respond, his return message a slew of heart eyes, pigs, green hearts, and a sleeping emoji. It makes Castiel giggle in relief, but his breath catches when Dean sends a photo back to him. 

Not shy about a selfie, it’s of Dean on his bike, riding through midtown. The skyscrapers tower around him and he’s sitting up on his bike, hands free and clearly insane to be taking a photo but Castiel feels better when he notices one of Dean’s feet on the ground at least. His smile is blinding and the sunset is streaming through the buildings and infusing his hair with gold light. 

Dean follows up the picture with the flame emoji and Castiel laughs out loud, making Pug jerk against his chest but stay asleep. 

He takes his time returning his own set of silly icons: a laughing face, many heart eyes, blue hearts, and the pig emoji to show that Pug sends his hello and likes his photo too. At least he will when he wakes up and Castiel shows him. He sets it as Dean’s contact picture. 

Looking over their exchange helps Castiel fall asleep that night, but he still wakes up in a foul mood anyway, the fight with his brother waking him far before his normal alarm. Castiel lays in bed and he fumes, and he goes over their fight again and again as the sun rises behind his curtains. Last night he let Pug stay with him instead of putting him in his room and when Castiel hears his little friend stir on his pillow in the corner, he rolls over so he can watch the piglet wake up. He always blinks his eyes open slowly while he rolls around in his blankets until he flips up onto all fours, his tail whipping when he sees that Castiel is awake too. 

It’s such a wonderful way to be greeted first thing in the morning. Much better than laying in bed irritated. Pug doesn’t seem to mind them taking their time before his walk, maybe knowing Castiel needs it. He decides to put his kettle on and have a cup of tea now, instead of having it when they get home, like usual. He feels lazy this morning and he isn’t looking forward to the trek to the Bronx later, especially since he’ll be alone and  _ thinking _ the entire time he’s there. 

Foregoing half his routine, Castiel doesn’t bother to shave, only brushing his teeth and making a sad attempt at taming his hair, not seeing the point this early. He spends the extra time reading and trying to distract himself but by the end of his first cup, Pug is trotting back and forth in front of the door. 

Castiel can take a hint. He throws on a hoodie and his bag and opens the door for Pug, the little pig tearing down the stairs ahead of Castiel, no longer scared. He locks the door behind him and makes sure he has his phone as he takes the stairs down and he’s almost to the door when he notices something that isn’t right in his peripheral vision. 

Glancing towards the service counter, Castiel sees that something  _ definitely _ isn’t right, that there are items that don’t belong there, on top of the counter. Castiel steps closer and his heart skips when he sees a simple, glass vase and the stalk of blue delphinium flowers that Dean got for him inside it. Propped up against it is another cassette tape and a little card, folded in half with  _ Cas  _ scrawled on the outside in Dean’s blocky text. 

He fumbles as he opens it with shaking fingers to read what’s written inside. 

_ Wanted to drop these off for you and figured a little Motown might cheer you up.  _

_ Give it a listen. _

  * _Dean _

His heart swells with delight and Castiel has to blink back tears that spring to his eyes. Dean is so  _ thoughtful _ , more caring than Castiel can imagine and continuously surprising him over and over in new ways. He’s not that disappointed he missed Dean, thinking this a very romantic gesture, even if Castiel would have enjoyed sharing a few kisses. 

Castiel gets a small thrill of satisfaction knowing again how off the mark his brother is about Dean.

Depositing Pug in his pen, Castiel hurries back upstairs to grab his Walkman so he can listen to the new tape right away and even before they’re out the door, Castiel’s mood is already improving.

The rest of the morning is a blur of wonderful, new music and even some awkward dancing on his part, after Pug woke up from his morning nap. The cold nose in his cheek makes Castiel think Pug liked it. He takes too long to pick out his clothes, not sure why he’s so nervous. It’s not like he even knows if the plan he came up with on their walk will work and he doesn’t want to seem too eager when he sees Dean, so he doesn’t feel pressured.

Castiel is feeling rebellious and he’s going to ask Dean if he wants to spend the day with him, after Pug’s walk. He doesn’t claim to know Dean’s schedule on any day, but over the course of the morning, Castiel’s convinced himself to just ask. The worst Dean can say is no and it would most likely be because he already has plans, not because he wouldn’t  _ want to. _

Castiel is still nervous when he tugs on a navy blue henley, paired with a pair of dark pants that stretch across his thighs comfortably. Trying to keep it casual, he pulls on a pair of black boots and Pug running in and out of his bedroom tells him that Dean has likely arrived downstairs for their walk. Castiel doesn’t even have time to run a hand through his hair and a quick glance at his reflection proves it crazy and shit—Castiel also forgot to shave. 

Maybe he’ll do it while Dean and Pug are out on their walk. 

Feeling better about forgetting, he takes a deep breath before he opens the front door, Pug already pushing through to skitter down the stairs and a thud followed by rich laughter tells Castiel that Pug likely missed the bottom step in his excitement. 

When he gets down to the store, Dean is cuddling Pug, his head down as he talks to him, greeting him for the first time that day. Dean’s hair is losing its brightness, but it still looks lovely, soft and devoid of product, like it was yesterday after he took off his hat. 

Castiel wants to sift his fingers through it. 

Instead, he steps into the room and Dean lifts his gaze the moment Castiel’s feet hit the sales floor and his whole face lights up as he takes Castiel in from head to toe. Castiel does the same as they drift towards each other, noticing that today, Dean’s wearing a dark blue flannel over a white v-neck, black jeans wrapped around his bow legs and black boots on his feet. 

So handsome without even trying. 

He dips down to release Pug so he can wrap his arms around Castiel’s shoulders to bring them together, his face going right into the curve of Castiel’s neck, Dean squeezing him in a warm hug. Castiel’s arms go around his waist, and he relaxes instantly into Dean’s embrace, all his remaining stress, and anger, and heartache melting away. 

Castiel had no idea how badly touch starved he’s been and he drags in a shuddering breath in an attempt to keep it together. Dean pulls back so he can press soft kisses up the line of Castiel’s throat, his sweet smile against Castiel’s cheek coaxing a wide grin out of him. Cupping Castiel’s cheek and thumbing at his scruff, Dean presses a chaste kiss to Castiel’s mouth and Castiel can’t help but lean into him. 

“Heya, Cas,” he mumbles before taking a step back and separating them, his grin still lopsided. “Sorry, just thought you might need that today.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Castiel gives him a reassuring, soft smile. “You were correct in your assumptions.” 

Dean perks up. “You guys having a good morning?” He looks around for his flowers, nodding when he sees them missing. 

“It got much better once I found your gift.” Castiel takes Dean’s hand and squeezes it. “Thank you,” he says softly and Dean doesn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss him. 

“Welcome, Cas.” His eyebrows perk up. “Did you listen?” 

“All morning. I’m enjoying this tape very much.” 

“Awesome,” he breathes out, relieved. He looks around and notes that Pug is watching them both from the door, waiting patiently for Dean who just huffs and shakes his head, taking the leash Castiel brought down so they can get going. 

Castiel knows this is his opportunity and deciding to seize it, he clears his throat as Dean leans down on one knee to slip on Pug’s harness. “Feel free to say no but—well, I was hoping—I wanted to see—” 

Dean peers up at him, working hard to fight back a grin as he clips on Pug’s leash before he stands. “Spit it out, buddy.”

Yes, they’re on a schedule and Castiel swallows thickly to steady himself. “I wanted to see if you’d like to spend the afternoon together, after your walk.” He gestures at Pug so he doesn’t have to look Dean in the eye, in case he’s getting ready to turn Castiel down. “I know it's last minute but—” 

“You’re not goin’ to work today?” The hope in Dean’s voice has Castiel’s head snapping up, his eyes wide. 

“I—no. I decided that a day off was overdue and I thought it might be nice to spend it… together.” Please let Dean say yes, it looks like Dean’s going to say yes and Castiel’s hopes shoot through the roof. “I understand it’s  _ very _ last minute—”

Castiel’s surprised when Dean kisses him swiftly, happily. “Heck yeah, I’d love that. We’ll be back as soon as we can, okay? Two hours, tops.” Another sweet kiss and then he’s opening the door, Pug trotting out and Dean following with a wave over his shoulder at Castiel as he exaggerates being dragged away by the tiny pig. 

Castiel hides a laugh behind his hand, his heart full because Dean said  _ yes _ to his spontaneous idea. He spends the next few hours actually working, to appease the tiny ball of guilt in his belly about taking a day off from the warehouse, especially when he’s so close to being done. The rest of the time is spent sorting through his emails, answering a few sales requests and making sure to put the book he keeps forgetting to give Dean behind the counter, so he can take it with him later. 

He’s a bundle of nerves as he paces back and forth in the store, waiting for them to return. Double checking again that he has his phone, Castiel doesn’t see Dean and Pug come up the walkway, looking up as they come inside. 

Pug beelines for his water dish when Dean drops his leash and Castiel forgets about his nerves, Dean’s excited smile putting him at ease. His cheeks are dusted in freckles, thanks to the slight flush he has from being outside and when he kisses Castiel hello, Dean tastes like sunshine and fresh starts, like that promise that anything can happen at the dawn of every new day, like anything is possible.

Castiel never thought he’d feel this way again. 

They say hello long enough for Pug to finish his snack and for Castiel’s lips to feel a little chapped when they part. Good thing he threw some chapstick in his bag. Dean uses the store bathroom to “freshen up” which he says with the cutest wink before Castiel’s distracted by Pug stepping in and tipping over his water bowl. Luckily, he drank most of it before he spilled what was left and it’s cleaned up by the time Dean comes back out. Dean leaves his dog walking bag on the counter before scooping Pug’s leash back up and taking Castiel’s hand. 

It’s all so easy. 

“So where we off to?” Dean asks as Castiel locks the door before they take to the sidewalk. Pug keeps glancing at them because this isn’t his schedule—this is his  _ nap _ time so why are they back outside? 

“I thought it might be nice to go up to the Central Park Zoo and show Pug the animals.” At first he thought his idea might be too juvenile, but it’s a lovely day and he knows Dean doesn’t mind walking and if he has an alternative idea, Castiel’s open to hear it. “Unless you can think of something better?” 

“Nah, that sounds great. Wanna jump on the subway?” He gestures at Pug with their joined hands. “Not sure if you noticed, but we’re getting the stink eye from mister sleepyhead here.” Dean takes pity on him and bends down to scoop Pug into the crook of his arm with a quick kiss to the top of his head. 

Castiel’s heart flutters at his casual display of affection. 

Pug has himself tucked under Dean’s flannel and he’s fast asleep by the time they get down to the trains. It’s not too crowded and they find an open seat together, enough room for them to sit close, thigh to thigh. The moment they do, Dean opens his arm so Castiel can tuck in and with his pig in one arm and Castiel under the other, Dean spends most of the ride uptown kissing him and smiling, making little quips about their fellow passengers to make Castiel laugh. 

“What do you think they’re saying about us,” Castiel can’t help but wonder aloud. 

Dean noses along Castiel’s jaw and hums. “Probably wonderin’ how I landed myself such a good lookin’ guy.” He presses a kiss to his chin. “Did I tell you I like this peach fuzz you got goin’ on?” With the hand over his shoulder, Dean runs the back of his knuckles over Castiel’s other cheek.

He forgot to shave. Castiel  _ knew _ he was forgetting something when he was waiting for Dean and his hand goes up to rub at the scruff that covers his jaw and throat. “I—I forgot, my apologies.” 

Dean scoffs. “Just said I liked it, man, you can leave it if you want.” To prove his point, he nuzzles Castiel’s cheek with his own. “S’soft.” 

Castiel huffs a laugh and relaxes and leans into Dean’s touch a fraction, enjoying the warmth in his cheeks brought on by Dean’s attention. “Thank you, then,” he replies, kissing Dean back until they reach their stop. 

Both of them blinking against the sun, they walk out of the subway and into Columbus Circle, people in suits and skirts returning to their offices after the lunch hour, almost pouring out of the entrance to the park. There are still many people milling about on bikes and skateboards and sitting around finishing lunch and it’s like being at their own park but  _ busier. _

Castiel grips Dean’s hand as they make their way through the crowd, relieved when they hit a quieter path. Dean seems to enjoy their small talk just as much as Castiel does as they discuss some of their favorite places around the city. Their conversation only stops when they reach the entrance to the zoo and they see the sign at the same time, the one that outlines the rules to enter and the big drawing of the dog on the leash with the red slash through it freezes them both.

No pets allowed. 

Castiel’s heart drops. They already got their tickets and they were both excited to go inside, Dean having never been. Not believing his bad luck, Castiel’s upset until he sees Dean’s face, and the calculating look in his eyes as he stares down the entrance. Castiel’s eyes follow and he sees a simple gate, manned by a young woman who is checking tickets as people pass by. There’s another man with her doing a quick check of bags, but aside from getting past them, entering the zoo seems fairly simple. 

Castiel already knows what Dean’s going to suggest. Licking his lips, Dean quirks an eyebrow and Castiel flicks his eyes to the large group of kids waiting to enter and that’s all it takes before Dean’s grinning and adjusting his flannel one last time before he takes the lead, both of them blending in with the crowd. Castiel holds his bag open for inspection, getting a short nod from the attendant before he sees Dean ahead, already waiting for him with a mischievous grin on his face. 

Castiel’s matches as he takes one last glance over his shoulder before he’s ushering Dean past the brick columns and down the shaded walkway into the zoo, both of them with a grin and a skip to their steps. 

“I can’t believe we did that,” Castiel says with a huff, as they get far enough away to slow down, already arriving at the first exhibit, a building that holds animals from the rainforest. 

Dean holds the door open for him with a grin. “I haven’t done anything like that in a long time, not since my little brother was a kid,” he muses. “Used to get in all kinds of trouble with that guy.” 

Castiel stops short. “Do you think we’ll get in trouble?” 

Chuckling, Dean shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll just tell them we didn’t see the sign, no big deal.” He peeks inside his flannel. “Little dude is still knocked out anyway.” 

Reassured, Castiel takes Dean’s free hand as they walk through the exhibit, the air stuffy from the simulated rainforest air. “My brother has always been one to follow the rules, despite my natural inclination to buck them.” They’ve always been different like that, amongst many other things. 

“I never would have guessed.” Dean gives him a playful side eye and squeezes his hand. “What was he so heated about anyway, unless he wasn’t kidding about it being too private.” 

“Jimmy thinks what he had for breakfast is private,” Castiel replies with a roll of his eyes. “He was there about Claire.” 

“Oh, her writing stuff?” Dean’s leaning over to read a sign about a fancy grey bird and he misses the surprised look that crosses Castiel’s face. 

“She told you about that?” 

The tone of Castiel’s voice has him straightening. “Yeah, other day when we were walkin’ around. She asked if I knew anyone in some writing program.” Dean shrugs a shoulder. “She asked Jo too, which is  _ good _ , because Jo knows everyone.” He points at the bird who has a crown of white feathers that dance around its head. “Look at that dumb bird,” he says with a laugh. “Take a picture for Pug.” 

Castiel digs his phone out, too focused on what Dean said. “Jo knows someone at NYU? Claire didn’t tell me she talked to you about it.” 

“Probably because it wasn’t a big deal.” He looks at the picture Castiel takes and holds out, nodding with satisfaction and hugging Pug a little tighter. A light sheen of sweat has broken out on his forehead and Castiel is sure he’s sweating too, a small trickle of it already dripping between his shoulder blades. Hopefully this exhibit is small. 

Castiel sighs as they move on. “Apparently, it’s a big deal to my brother.” 

“He doesn’t like it,” Dean surmises.

“He loathes the idea,” Castiel confirms. Dean stays quiet and allows Castiel to continue as they walk. “He doesn’t believe that writing is a… lucrative career, for a girl of Claire’s ‘stature’.” Castiel uses air quotes and Dean quirks a smile at him before he wrinkles his nose. 

“There’s more important things than money,” he says, his face softening before he leans in to kiss the corner of Castiel’s mouth, making Castiel’s heart race and call him greedy, but hearing Dean say that makes Castiel want more so he takes a moment to curl his fingers in Dean’s flannel to pull him closer and kiss him properly. 

Dean doesn’t let him go until he can rub his cheek against Castiel’s with a satisfied hum. 

They walk under the tall trees, their branches mimicking the canopy of the rainforests and Dean listens as Castiel explains to Dean that actually, to his twin, money  _ is _ the most important thing in his life. They’ve always been who they are and Dean doesn’t say much when Castiel outlines how they’ve always been on the opposite side of most things. 

“All signs point to evil twin, Cas,” he kids, stopping them at the last exhibit, the black and white lemurs, a few of them hanging out in the trees right in the middle of their space. He points at them, which has become their unspoken language for  _ take a picture. _ Castiel’s happy to, thrilled because it’s exactly the type of silly thing he’s done for Pug in the past. 

Plus they can look at the pictures together later, if Dean’s amenable. 

“Okay, now take one of us.” 

Castiel blinks at him, tearing his eyes off the last photo he took. “What—you want me to—” 

“Take a selfie of us, come on we look cute.” Dean’s grin is cheeky and he’s not wrong, Castiel thinking the piglet sized lump under his shirt only making him cuter. 

Doesn’t mean the pressure of taking a good picture of them doesn’t have Castiel’s anxiety spiking. Dean seems to notice his hesitation and he pauses. “Unless you don’t want to? We don’t have to.” He lets go of Castiel’s hand and the loss is instant and Castiel grabs it back without thinking. 

“No! I just—I’m not great at that so maybe you can—” 

“Oh! Yeah, that I can handle.” He lets him go this time with a reassuring glance before he holds out his hand for Castiel’s phone. Dean seems to realize something and he gives Castiel a sly grin. “I’d put my other arm around you but as the personal pig carrier, I’m gonna need an assist.”

“Oh!” Castiel realizes what Dean means and he steps closer to him, wrapping an arm around Dean’s shoulders so they can get closer. Dean turns his body towards Castiel so that Pug is between them and little else, Castiel’s heart pounding hard enough he’s sure Dean can hear it. Almost cheek to cheek, Dean holds the camera out, his thumb hovering over the shutter button as he grins, and reminds Castiel to smile. 

Castiel does, and he watches the camera as Dean smiles back before he turns his face to kiss Castiel’s cheek. Dean snaps the picture in the same moment Castiel’s smile widens, and then he takes a few more of them as Castiel blushes and laughs and Dean mugs for the camera.

Anytime his heart feels heavy talking about Jimmy, Dean’s able to lift his spirits and Castiel is so grateful for him. 

He’s also grateful when they exit the very stuffy, albeit interesting, exhibit. They’re both sticky with sweat and they exhale equal sighs of relief when the cool spring air hits their faces. Dean buys them ice cream cones before they continue and they enjoy them while they walk under the trees and past the red pandas and the snow monkeys. Castiel’s trying— _ very hard _ —not to watch Dean eat his ice cream cone because every time he glances at him, he forgets to take his own bite long enough for his ice cream to drip. 

A small curl of satisfaction unfurls in Castiel’s chest when he notices Dean’s mouth hanging open after a particularly large drop of melted ice cream has to be licked off a few of his knuckles before it makes a larger mess. 

He fights back his smile and accepts the napkin Dean offers him, after that. Conversation between them flows while they walk and they make it all the way to the grizzly bears before a sleepy pig pokes his nose out of Dean’s flannel, not staying quiet  _ at all _ when he realizes Dean’s holding him. They find a little area away from everyone to quiet him, Castiel feeding him some dried cranberries to settle him down as Dean gives him cuddles and scratches to his back and tummy before anyone notices their contraband pet.

“Ok buddy, we’re almost done here but you gotta be quiet so we can finish lookin’ at all these animals, okay?” 

Castiel tucks away Pug’s treats and hides his happy smile listening to Dean bring Pug in on their scheme, laughing when Pug seems to understand and settle himself back inside Dean’s shirt without a fuss. Castiel shakes his head in awe. “You might be the only person he listens to, the little bug.” 

“What can I say, Cas, dudes dig me,” Dean replies, emerald eyes glittering in the bright spring sunshine.

Castiel can’t disagree with that in the slightest.


	13. Chapter 13

Together they leave the zoo, Pug getting put down the moment they step back into the park so he can trot around and stretch his legs. Letting him sniff the grass and do his business, they catch a viewing of the Delacorte clock. Castiel's telling Dean about watching it with his uncle when he was a kid when he gets a text from Claire that has him laughing out loud and showing it to Dean. 

He cracks up as he reads that Castiel’s brother stayed home from work today because Castiel gave him a black eye. Castiel shouldn’t laugh,  _ they _ shouldn’t but at this point, it’s all Castiel feels like he can do because the alternative is worse. The alternative is believing Jimmy. 

They walk away from the zoo and into the park and end up standing together on the Gapstow Bridge, both of them leaning against the stone railing to stare at the park sprawled in front of them. The city looms high above and beyond the tall trees and it’s a gorgeous spring day; the sun warming both their faces as Pug runs as far as his leash will allow, and then again in every direction he can. 

Breaking their comfortable silence, Dean huffs out a laugh, and shakes his head. “I can’t believe you hit him.” 

Embarrassed, Castiel doesn’t look at him, instead staring at a father and son rowing a boat below. He knows it was immature to resort to violence but— “He had it coming,” Castiel retorts.

Dean laughs again and leans into Castiel’s side. “He  _ must  _ have,” he stresses. “Can’t even imagine you irritated, let alone mad enough to administer a black eye.” Taking Castiel’s hand in his, he lifts it to his mouth to brush a kiss along Castiel’s still sore knuckles.

“Well, you should have seen me last night. The stuff he said—” Castiel cuts himself off with a huff and repeats what he said. “Jimmy had it coming.” 

Letting him go, Dean turns around and leans back on his elbows, tipping his face up to the sun and shutting his eyes to its bright rays. “You don’t have to explain to me, man, I have a brother too.”

Castiel turns his head to peer at him. “And have you two ever come to blows over a disagreement?”

Dean seems to find that amusing. “And then some,” he replies, his tone full of implication. Castiel presses their shoulders together again and hopes Dean continues, finding himself desperate to hear more. 

It must help. 

“Seems like me and Sammy been fighting our whole lives,” he huffs, glancing at Castiel and going on when he sees he’s listening. “Our dad worked a lot, so I kinda had to be the parent when he wasn’t around and Sammy never even liked  _ one _ person telling him what to do, let alone his overprotective big brother.”

“What's your age difference?”

“Four years,” Dean replies. “You and Jimmy?” 

“The longest twelve minutes in existence,” he answers very seriously. 

Dean laughs. “Does he hold them over your head a lot?”

Castiel’s smile falters. “He used to.” He can’t remember the last time they teased each other over their non-existent age gap and he drops his gaze back to the water. 

“Yeah, Sammy hates when I pull the big brother card, even more, now that he’s all grown up.” 

“Does he live in New York?” 

“Close, Connecticut,” Dean corrects him. “Got a nice little set up in the ‘burbs you know? Big house, pretty wife, two kids, white picket fence—you name it.” 

Castiel can’t help but notice the way Dean’s voice has fallen flat. 

“Sam’s a real up and comer in the DA’s office so I don’t get to see him much, too busy for his big bro.” He’s edging on bitter now and it’s not a tone of Dean’s voice Castiel is used to. 

“Are you two close?” Castiel asks, careful and trying to be mindful of Dean’s faltering mood. 

He’s quiet long enough to make Castiel nervous that he asked the wrong question and he turns around when Dean leans down to scoop Pug off the ground, fussing with his collar for no reason Castiel can see, and he knows he most likely crossed a line. 

Dean still takes his hand to walk off the bridge and back into the shade of the trees. He finds them an empty bench down by the water’s edge, the view overlooking the bridge they just left. It’s dripping in green moss, the stones that make up the bridge weathered and knowing, over a hundred years of people crossing its wide path and leaving their stories behind. 

Making sure Pug can’t throw himself into the lake, Dean puts him down with enough slack to get close to the edge but not  _ too  _ close, and he smiles as Pug tests his boundaries, Dean still distracted by Castiel’s ill timed question. He’s about to change the subject when Dean starts talking. 

“When Sam was little, we were inseparable, you know? Then the kid grew up.” Dean squints at the lake, his mouth quirking into a weak smile. “He was always smart, always the top of his class if we stayed in one place for long enough.” Shaking his head, he scuffs at the ground with the toe of his boot. “And Sam  _ hated _ moving. When he was small, I could make it into a big adventure, draw him a map and we’d make blanket forts when our dad went out, stuff like that, but it gets old after a while to a smart kid like Sam.” 

Castiel thinks he’d rather enjoy that, even now at their age.

“Pretty soon, he just wanted rides to the library or to whatever study group he’d join wherever we’d land. Outgrew me pretty quick.” Dean leans over and rests his elbows on his knees, and Castiel doesn’t hesitate to rub a hand up and down his back, any attempt to put him at ease, Dean’s shoulders gaining tension as he speaks. Relaxing some under his touch, Dean tilts his head to give Castiel a genuinely grateful smile that’s still a little too sad around the edges for Castiel’s liking. “Aren’t brothers supposed to be close, Cas?”

More than anything, Castiel wishes he had an answer that would remove all the regret from Dean’s voice. Instead, he raises his eyebrows with a slight shrug. “You met my brother, Dean, I don’t think I’m qualified to answer that question. I always thought we’d grow closer as we matured, but I suppose living in separate states wasn’t conducive to that goal.”

Castiel doubts they’ll be getting there soon, either. 

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Dean agrees with a huff, leaning back, Castiel’s hand sliding up and over his shoulder to give it a quick squeeze before Dean settles under his arm. Pug is trotting back and forth by the water’s edge, his tail flipping as he snorts and snuffles at the grass. “If it makes you feel better, Sam’s not too happy with me right now either, and we've lived in the same area for a few years.” 

“And why’s that?” Castiel motions with his hand like Dean did yesterday and Dean’s smile is small when he grabs it, relaxing further when Castiel runs his thumb over Dean’s freckled knuckles. 

“I kinda haven’t returned his calls in a few days.” Dean won’t look at Castiel. “It’s just his usual check in call to see if I got a job yet.” 

Castiel frowns. “You have a job—you have a few jobs.” He doesn’t understand. “What does he think you do all day?” 

“Fuck around, mostly,” Dean answers with a shrug. “He likes to remind me that drawing won’t pay the bills forever.”

“Well, why not?” Castiel retorts. “Many artists have successful careers using their talent. And you are  _ incredibly _ talented Dean, not just with your painting but with all the things you create.” He gestures at the pins he proudly displays on his bag. “Do you honestly think just anyone could make one of these? I wouldn’t even know where to begin, if I were asked.” Castiel notices the high flush Dean’s cheeks have taken on and he finds it lovely. He’ll praise Dean to anyone who will listen if that’s his reward. Castiel pulls him a little closer so he can lower his voice and lessen Dean’s embarrassment some. “You impress me every single day, Dean.” 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean replies softly, closing his eyes when Castiel leans in to press a kiss to his temple. "I just don't think my brother likes me all that much, you know?"

Castiel does and it breaks his heart to share this thing in common. “More than you know, Dean.” 

There’s not much else to say. Dean squeezes Castiel’s hand and they sit together in silence, the park and the city still moving around them, nothing slowing down to accommodate that the two of them might need a minute of peace amongst the chaos. 

They’ll just have to find it here, on this park bench, while they watch Pug make friends with the local ducks, a few of them having swam up to inspect him as he’s been playing along their shoreline. Curious now, he’s attracted almost seven ducks (including three ducklings) and one goose that Castiel thinks he should keep an eye on. Dean laughs quietly as two of the baby ducks waddle out of the water bravely to inspect this interloper, going so far as to stick their tiny beaks close to his ears to say hello. 

It only takes one curious snort from Pug to send them both skittering back into the water to swim safely to their mom’s side. 

When Pug happens to glance back at the two men, Dean has turned into Castiel’s embrace to kiss him, soft at first, his lips searching for reassurance, like he could have said too much but what Dean doesn’t understand is that he could never be too much for Castiel, that even simply sitting on a bench in the middle of Central Park together is enough to him. 

He couldn’t possibly know that it’s Castiel who is finding salvation... in  _ him. _

The rest of the day passes in a content blur. Together, they explore the south end of the park, stopping to challenge each other at checkers (both are relieved that the other doesn’t know how to play chess) and they don’t even keep track of who wins, Dean intent to “king” as many of his pieces as he can versus actually clear the board. They take Pug on the carousel for a spin, much to the delight of many children on board. The attendant even lets them take another turn so Dean can parade Pug around to say hello to everyone, showing each child and their parents equal attention, Pug loving all the pats and snuggles he’s getting. 

Castiel can’t remember being this happy as he watches the two of them charm the crowd and he can’t help but snap a few pictures, knowing this is a memory he’ll never forget and will want to look back on, in the future. A tiny part of him—his most foolish—hopes Dean is there, too. Castel’s been trying to keep those greedy thoughts away, knows it’s far too soon but there’s just something about Dean. It’s almost impossible to describe, to even understand, but when he’s near, everything is just better_._ Brighter. _Alive. _

Castiel knows it’s something special because when they’re apart, he can feel the loss like an ache in his chest, a knot that loosens the moment their eyes meet again. It’s indulgent and poetic and ten thousand other stupid and sappy things that Castiel can think of to describe how he feels just when he looks at Dean. 

Don’t get him started on the kissing. 

Dean’s almost done saying hello to the last child, his next stop back at Castiel’s side. While he was watching them, Castiel had climbed atop one of the horses so he could see above everyone to see better and now Dean’s eyes keep flicking away from the child and over to him, and Castiel’s not bothering to hide his wide grin. 

He couldn’t if he tried. 

_ Finally _ , Dean gains his freedom, a crooked grin on his face as he looks up at Castiel for the first time, the horse giving him just enough height to have gained an inch or two on Dean. Castiel finds he rather enjoys the way Dean’s taking him in before he rocks up on his toes enough to kiss Castiel, Dean’s hand going around the silver pole right next to where Castiel’s holding on as he leans in to meet Dean halfway. Their mouths come together, their wide smiles making it impossible to kiss properly but neither of them care, and neither do all of Dean and Pug’s new friends, if the chorus of youthful, teasing “Ooooh’s” that goes up around them is any indication.

They part laughing, Castiel’s head falling back with it, as Dean presses his head to Castiel’s stomach, his shoulders shaking and Pug making a racket in his arms, trying to nuzzle Dean as he tries to stop laughing. Castiel doesn’t hesitate to wrap a hand around Dean’s head, his fingers sliding into the short hair in the back, soft as Castiel thought it might be. Dean hums in response and rocks his head back and forth so Castiel’s fingers drag across the back of his head until Castiel gets the hint and takes it upon himself to scratch lightly through Dean’s hair, before he’s pulling away with a satisfied groan. 

“Do  _ not _ tell anyone that I like my hair played with.” Dean’s eyes are still laughing when he tugs Castiel down again to kiss the tip of his nose. “That’s proprietary information.” 

“Your secret is safe with me,” Castiel assures him, finding out it's hard to mime zipping your lips when you just can’t stop grinning. 

They decide to walk the fifty or so blocks back to the village, Dean mentioning that one of his favorite pizza places is on the way. He only wrinkles his nose a little when Castiel orders a slice with pineapple on it, Dean choosing the meat lovers for himself before they find an open part of the sidewalk countertop, the perfect place for them to stand and enjoy their slices with Pug between their feet, drinking water noisily out of a small cup the owner offered when she saw him, instantly falling for the little cutie like most people do. 

She also gave them two free cannoli, which Castiel attributes to the warm smile Dean gave her when he ordered. 

Castiel is surrounded by charmers. 

His heart skips when the taller of the two hands him his slice of pizza with a wink and a quick kiss. 

“So—pineapple.”

Castiel sighs. “It’s very good.”

“Impossible.” 

Castiel hears this all the time from Claire. “Have you tried it?” He holds his plate up, offering Dean the first bite. Castiel gets a suspicious glance but Dean leans in to give the slice a sniff before he  _ very bravely _ scoops the slice up to bite off the tip, two plump pieces of pineapple included. 

Castiel raises an eyebrow as Dean’s face goes through a wide range of expressions, from confusion, to surprise, to a pleased face which he tries to hide when he sees that Castiel’s noticed him enjoying it.

Grinning, Castiel takes his own bite, wiping his mouth as he swallows. “If you like it, we can consider it more of your ‘proprietary information’ so no one finds out.” Castiel uses air quotes, always preferring them to get his point across, especially if he’s going to tease Dean about liking the pizza. 

Dean scoffs as he swallows. “Using air quotes just draws attention to the secrecy of the information, babe.” He takes a bite of his own pizza and wiggles his eyebrows, talking around his bite. “But you sure do look cute doing ‘em.” 

Castiel has to put down his pizza because he’s not sure he heard Dean right. “Did you just—” Heat flairs in his cheeks when Dean’s eyes widen and his chewing freezes, before he tries to swallow his food too fast. He’s coughing and Castiel’s hitting him on his back and Pug’s just looking at them like they’re lunatics as Dean clears his throat. Castiel offers him an uncapped bottle of water which he takes with a grateful nod. 

Concerned now, Dean clears his throat. “Was it too much? Did you hate it?” He shakes his head, the apples of his cheeks pink. “Do you want me to stick to  _ Cas _ ?” 

Castiel can’t deny that still sounds special coming from Dean. Glad to not be the only one blushing, Castiel shakes his head. “I really like when you say the shortened version of my name, but I liked that, as well,” he admits before taking another big bite so he doesn’t have to say anything else embarrassing, but Dean seems pleased with his answer so Castiel supposes it’s okay. 

They eat silently for a while, but like with all things concerning Dean, it’s comfortable. Watching the bustle of the restaurant as they eat brings back memories and Castiel smiles before he shares with Dean. “I worked in a pizza parlor for a while in Washington, while I was in school,” Castiel muses.

Dean perks up at this new information. “Oh yeah?”

Castiel hums in confirmation. “Started out washing dishes and eventually, I was promoted to delivery man.” 

“Is  _ that  _ so? Ever get propositioned by a bored housewife?” Dean bounces his eyebrows suggestively, which makes Castiel laugh. 

“No, but a rather old,  _ wrinkled _ man opened the door naked once.”

“Gross, no thank you.” Dean scrunches his nose.

“I said the same.”

Dean looks at him slyly. “You know, I can say that if I had ordered a pizza and  _ you _ were on the other side of the door, the answer to that question would have definitely been yes.” 

“Dean.” Castiel’s cheeks are getting warm again and he drops his gaze down to Pug, who’s ignoring them to peer down a sidewalk grate. Dean just huffs a laugh at Castiel’s shyness and uses one finger to tip his chin up so he can look into his eyes. 

“You’re the hot ex-pizza man, not me,” Dean’s trying to look serious, but it’s just making them both laugh. 

“What kind of job did you have when you were younger?” Castiel’s very curious and also ready to move on, Dean’s flirting making him feel warm. 

His question starts Dean on a tale of odd jobs, often worked with his dad while they were on the road. Once his little brother got old enough to stay on his own, Dean would run errands for whatever construction crew his dad was on, picking up food or beer with his fake ID. He explained that he had one to make it easier on his dad but admitted to using it if he got the chance. 

Unlike the last time he spoke of his youth, these stories rotate around his father and Dean’s enthusiasm hasn’t disappeared, but it has faltered enough for Castiel to lace their fingers together while they walk, to squeeze his hand encouragingly. Talking about his father is clearly not a topic Dean enjoys. 

When given the opportunity, Castiel leads the conversation towards the different jobs Dean’s had since living in New York, and it delights him to listen to Dean talk about moving here and living here and how much he loves it. How much he never wants to leave. 

Castiel understands that feeling. 

It’s dark when Dean walks Castiel back to his doorstep. Castiel took his turn carrying a sleeping Pug home, the little trooper making it all the way to 15th Street before he slowed down, sat on his rump and refused to move again until he was picked up. Dean offered but Castiel didn’t mind and neither did Pug, asleep by 14th Street in the crook of Castiel’s arm. Castiel is tucked under Dean’s arm, which slips off his shoulders when they approach the door, Dean hesitating. Castiel doesn’t, taking his keys out and opening it, flicking the lights on before holding the door open for Dean to enter. His bag is inside but Castiel doesn’t want their night to end yet. 

Dean steps in and glances around and Castiel supposes he’s never seen the store lit up like this but it is quite nice, the warm, recessed lighting making the space feel comfortable, even without the shelving units that are being delivered in two weeks, the books from storage following shortly after. 

“How soon till you fill this place up with books?” 

Castiel clears his throat. “A few weeks, I think.” 

Dean’s over by the counter, fidgeting with the strap of his bag as they talk. 

Castiel’s nervous but he opens his mouth anyway. “Would you like to come upstairs for a nightcap?” He tilts Pug up as much as he can without jostling the sleeping babe. “He sleeps much better in his own bed.” 

Dean’s whole face transforms into a look of relief and curiosity mixed with excitement to see the upstairs. “He has his own bed?” 

“Of course he does,” Castiel scoffs, as he turns around to lock the door and hide his amused grin. He looks over his shoulder at Dean, hovering by the counter. “Can you go turn the light on by the staircase?” 

Nodding, Dean crosses the room to flick the light on with a thumbs up so Castiel can turn off the lights inside. Dean’s smile is shy when Castiel leads them up the red staircase, Dean's hair glowing under the light, his green eyes just as bright. Their steps echo in the confined space and Castiel has a slight moment of panic, wondering if he left out anything that could embarrass him when they get inside. 

Aside from maybe an abandoned tea cup or two, Castiel thinks he’s safe, unless Dean has a thing about dirty dishes and they’re hardly dirty, just empty cups. The moment he pushes the door open, Castiel sees one on the counter left over from this morning. Ignoring it, Castiel turns on the lights and holds the door open for Dean to enter. “This is it,” he says, his arm out awkwardly. 

Dean’s eyes are wide as saucers as he walks in, trying to take in everything at once, it seems like. Castiel encourages him to remove his boots, which Dean does, toeing out of them and nudging them into place with his socked feet. 

“Are those… takeout boxes?” Castiel stares at the socks on Dean’s feet, not sure what he’s looking at. They’re black with what looks like takeout boxes with noodles pouring out, words Castiel can’t make out printed below. 

Dean grins and wiggles his toes. “ _ Send noods, _ get it?” He’s proud of these stupid socks and it’s adorable. 

Castiel shakes his head. “Those are very tacky.” 

Dean throws his head back and laughs. “I know. They were a white elephant gift from Ash. I forgot I put them on this morning.” He shrugs and uses one of Castiel’s coat hooks to hang his dog walking bag, his flannel following so that all he’s wearing now are his socks, jeans, and a white v-neck. 

Castiel’s heart pounds in his chest at the sight of Dean’s tan, freckled arms. Swallowing hard, he removes his own shoes (ignoring his boring, white socks) and nods towards Pug’s open bedroom door. “Would you like to see his room?” 

“He has his own  _ room?”  _ Dean follows Castiel into the small bedroom. 

"Well, he shares it with my books."

Dean let's out a low whistle that makes Pug twitch but not wake. Castiel thinks he's down for the night, his sleep well earned after such an adventurous day. Kissing his sleeping head, Castiel tucks the tiny piglet in bed, what's really a large flat box painted light pink and lined with a heating pad on one side, which Castiel clicks on, and so much cushioning and blankets, it's definitely the softest bed in the house. Pigs love to root and Pug is a master which necessitates all his blankets. He loves to play in them, and that's where Castiel finds him most mornings.

Stroking down Pug’s back, Castiel wishes him sweet dreams filled with more adventures before he straightens and turns, only to find Dean watching him with a soft smile. Giving Pug one last look, Castiel holds his hand out to Dean, which he doesn't hesitate to take, squeezing Castiel's hand as they leave the bedroom, Castiel closing the door behind them.

Leading them to the kitchen, he leaves Dean to sit while he scoops up the wayward cup, putting it in the sink. Opening the cabinet next to the stove, Castiel takes down his basket of teas to sift through the many options. “Do you have a preference?” 

“Uh, actually, I’m gonna have to pass.” 

Attention still on his tea selection, Castiel doesn’t see Dean’s reaction, but he lifts his head at his response. 

“I—I don’t drink.” Dean is staring hard at the counter, clearly not comfortable with his admission but Castiel doesn’t understand.

“You like coffee that much?” 

Dean meets his eyes, brow furrowed. “Huh?” 

“You don’t drink tea,” Castiel states. It’s all he has and he shrugs. “I’m sorry but all I have is tea. I can prepare better for next time but—” 

“Whoa, whoa, Cas,” Dean stands, hands up to stop him. “You’re offering me tea?” 

Castiel sighs. “It’s all I have.” 

Understanding crosses Dean’s face. “Okay, phew, I thought you were—okay, nevermind, tea is great Cas, tea’s great.” He takes the basket out of Castiel’s hands and wraps Castiel’s arms around his waist. Castiel doesn’t hesitate, pulling Dean close and pressing the side of his face against Dean’s neck. Dean’s arms go around him too, one of Dean’s large hands pressed to his back. 

“What did you think I meant, Dean?” 

Pressing a kiss to Castiel’s temple before he pulls away, Dean keeps one arm around him, using the other to bring the basket between them. “Sorry, I thought you meant alcohol. Most people offer beer or something when you visit their house and I’m an alcoholic, so none of that for me.” He nods down at the basket. “Gonna have to put this choice in your hands though because I don’t know shit about tea.” Dean shakes the basket and tightens his hand on Castiel’s back and Castiel can tell he’s trying to hide his nerves.

Wanting to put Dean at ease, Castiel presses a soft kiss to Dean’s forehead and picks out two satchels of green tea for them. “I’ve never enjoyed the taste of alcohol, so you’ll never find it here. But next time you visit, I will have coffee for you.” 

The tension bleeds from Dean’s body and he practically sags in relief. “Thanks, Cas,” he answers, soft. 

“I’ll get the kettle going if you want to make yourself comfortable,” Castiel suggests wanting Dean to relax, wanting him to be at ease here, to know that regardless of whatever Dean might consider to be a personal shortcoming, Castiel will never think less of him. 

For as calm as he is on the outside, Castiel is  _ burning  _ with curiosity. If he's being honest, he had already worried about this himself, his own aversion to drinking a topic of criticism in the past. Inias didn't like it, often telling Castiel it would help him loosen up some.

It feels so insulting now. 

Castiel pushes those thoughts away, asking Dean how he takes his tea and getting a shrug in response, as Dean studies his bookshelves, standing almost exactly where his brother stood just yesterday. Their argument feels ages away and Castiel prefers it that way. 

“I like your pictures,” Dean tells him when Castiel approaches with two steaming mugs of tea. He prepared Dean’s the same as his, since he has no preference. “Were you and your brother  _ blonde _ when you were little?”

Castiel smiles shyly as Dean takes his. “Our hair was sandy colored, it got darker the older we got.” 

“Mine’s like that, believe it or not.” 

Castiel looks up at the orange in disbelief and Dean huffs out a laugh. 

“What? I have normal hair, you know.” He nods towards the couch and they sit, neither of them taking advantage of all the space. They leave their cups on the coffee table to cool and when they sit back, Dean holds an arm out, which Castiel settles under. 

“Is it a lot of work, all the color?” 

“I used to go all out when I first started, bleach, permanent color, the works. Jo hated it,” he chuckles, settling in to tell his story. “She helps me, you know? When she’s not slinging records, she does hair and makeup freelance, got her cosmetology license and everything.” The pride in Dean’s voice is clear. “I was one of her first clients.” He runs a hand through his orange locks, the hair curling around his fingers as they sweep through his hair. Castiel wishes it were him doing it. “She’s got her own shit now, she just puts it in like a hair dye and it fades after a week. It’s all natural if I leave it alone, but I usually have a new color picked out by now.” 

“What will next week be then?” The hand that went through Dean’s hair is in his lap and Castiel reaches for it, holding it with both his free hands. As their fingers tangle, Castiel thinks he’s going to quite miss the orange. 

“Was thinkin’ some kinda purple, maybe? You got any requests?” Dean asks, a tease in his voice. 

Castiel thinks for a moment while Dean watches him, his smile small. “You wore a mauve once that I quite enjoyed, but we weren’t quite as um,  _ close _ as we are now so I didn’t think it appropriate to say anything.” 

One side of Dean’s mouth quirks up. “Mauve, huh? Haven’t been mauve in a while Cas, just how long  _ have _ you thought I was cute?” 

_ Since the moment I laid eyes on you _ is what Castiel wishes he could say. 

Dean goes on. “Because I remember the first time I saw you.” He leans in conspiratorially. “Almost crashed my bike.” 

“Dean.” Castiel blushes. 

“Not my fault you were all sweaty and hot, moving some boxes out to the curb. I rode by and almost crashed into a parked car when I saw those muscles." Dean squeezes Castiel's upper arm for emphasis. 

He furrows his brow trying to remember what Dean could be talking about, until he remembers that when he was here for the funeral, they'd cleaned so much and he had arranged a pickup of some items he'd set aside for donation. It was the day before he went back to Washington. And here, Castiel was sure the first time they saw each other was the night Dean was delivering something to Rowena's.

"Your hair was pink." 

Dean blinks at him.

"The first time I saw you. Your hair was pink." Castiel gathers his courage, Dean's confident flirting wearing off on him. "You were delivering groceries to Rowena and you had pink hair. And you winked at me."

Dean's head falls back in laughter, and oh that sounds lovely in his space. Castiel wants to hear it again. 

"So I guess it really was love at first sight," Dean says around his fading laugh and as soon as the words are out, his eyes widen. 

Castiel's pretty sure his heart stops. It would explain why the only reaction he has is to lean in and kiss Dean, his hands going around Dean's neck to pull him closer, to kiss him harder, to make Dean understand that Castiel feels it too, this scary, unknown thing they're slipping into. It’s something bigger than they are and Castiel doesn't want to resist this, this—this  _ profound bond _ they can't seem to shake. 

It must be responsible for Dean's hand when it cups the back of Castiel's head so he can keep Castiel close, so he can suck at Castiel’s lips and run his tongue along the seam of Castiel's mouth, making him shiver and open it, a small, breathy, aroused sound escaping that Dean swallows eagerly with his own in return, the sound sending want burning through his veins. 

Every press of Dean’s lips leaves another mark on Castiel’s soul and soon they’re both breathless, their mouths only parting so they can chase slips of air, enough to continue kissing and exploring each other’s mouths, Dean’s clever tongue flicking against the roof of Castiel’s mouth. Castiel runs one hand up and into Dean’s hair and he can’t stop the gasp of delight at how soft it is, just as he imagined it to be. 

Dean chuckles and shifts his hips towards Castiel so they can press closer together, Dean tilting his head so he can deepen their kiss. Eventually they’re chest to chest, hands are everywhere they can be, and both of them are flushed and panting against each other’s lips, but still not stopping. Castiel’s hot all over and Dean’s skin is so soft, Castiel’s hand having made its way under Dean’s shirt to stroke fingers up and down his back. Dean has a hand buried in Castiel’s hair and his shirt is rucked up from Dean pressing him into the soft cushions. 

With a regretful groan, Dean separates them, and Castiel doesn’t like that, chasing his mouth until Dean presses his forehead to Castiel’s shoulder, both their chests heaving. “Cas, Cas, we should—we gotta—” 

Castiel tugs at Dean’s shoulder and shakes his head, wanting to get back to the kissing now, please. 

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do, is all,” Dean goes on and Castiel slides his hand out of his shirt when Dean sits back, turning and putting one knee up on the sofa, propping his elbow on the back of it and rubbing his hand over his mouth to steady himself.

Castiel takes Dean’s other hand, leaning back to give Dean his space. “Do you want to slow down?” Rubbing his thumb over Dean’s knuckles, he waits for his answer. Castiel’s biggest priority is Dean’s comfort and if they’re moving too fast, he’s happy to take as much time as Dean needs. 

“I dunno, haven’t done this in a while and I don’t want you to think—” Dean sighs and drops his gaze down to their joined hands. “It’s not all I want from you.” 

Oh. Castiel’s not sure what to say, this being miles from where he thought Dean was going, making him think he should stop assuming he can predict anything Dean’s about to do. He shakes his head and squeezes Dean’s hand. “I didn’t think that was your intention, Dean. Never once.” 

Looking a little dazed when he looks back up, Dean shakes his head. “You’re really great, Cas. And I always want to make sure you’re good. Consent, you know?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “It’s hot.” 

Castiel nods in agreement. “And so are you,” he murmurs. “Now can we please get back to the kissing?”

Dean tugs on a lock of Castiel’s hair, rubbing their noses together. “Hell yeah,” he replies with a grin, capturing Castiel’s mouth with a searing kiss, his hands fisting in Castiel’s henley as he pulls Castiel on top of him, Dean’s shoulders resting on the arm of the couch, the cushion thick enough to be comfortable. 

A groan leaving his mouth, Castiel kisses him back, giving just as good as he’s getting, wanting Dean to know he wants him back just as much. They make out like teenagers do, the kind of make-out session that includes wandering hands, stray, sucking lips, and eventually, rolling hips. 

When Dean straightens his knee to get comfortable, and allow Castiel to sink between his legs, he presses a heel to Castiel’s thigh and Castiel can’t help but melt into him, feeling Dean’s hardness against his hip. It only takes one encouraging tip of Dean’s hips for Castiel to shift down, lining them up so they can kiss and rub against each other, slow, hesitant, almost shy at first, Dean gasping the moment he can feel Castiel’s arousal. 

God, Dean is incredible. He loses himself in his pleasure and he doesn’t care how he sounds, as his sweet groans turn into whimpers as they move together, Dean murmuring Castiel’s name between kisses like he’s something to be cherished, like Castiel might even be something special to him. 

Everything feels like it's on fire but Castiel doesn’t care, if this is how it feels to be with Dean, he’d let the world burn. What else could he need, beyond this moment, beyond anything else if it means he gets to have this with Dean. Every overwhelming emotion, the vulnerability of falling in love with the man under him, it brings every single nerve to attention, and it’s like Dean knows that something’s changed. 

He holds Castiel tighter to him and kisses him harder, palming Castiel’s lower back so they can keep the perfect rolling rhythm their hips have found, Castiel lost in their momentum. 

“I’ve got you,” Dean whispers in his ear and Castiel’s gone, Dean’s name falling from his mouth and Dean right there, ready to accept him, all of him, Dean’s leg tightening as he follows Castiel, as he chokes on his name and buries his face in the curve of Castiel’s neck, his breath hot and his lips wet and kissing lazily as they both come down from their high. 

Dean huffs a laugh first, his wide smile warm against Castiel’s skin and it triggers his grin, a deep, throaty laugh spilling from his mouth, the rush of his endorphins making Castiel dizzy with joy and that sweet satisfaction an incredible orgasm brings with it. 

He can’t help but kiss Dean, kiss his smile, kiss his cheeks, his nose, Dean’s forehead as he giggles and tries to catch his breath. “Are you all right? Was that—” 

Dean surges up to kiss the question from his lips. “That was awesome and I don’t want you thinkin’ otherwise.” 

Softening, Castiel kisses him back. “It was quite awesome, wasn’t it?” 

“Okay, that’s entirely too cute when you say it.” Dean rubs their cheeks together with a satisfied sigh. Tucking his face back into Castiel’s neck for a moment, he kisses Castiel before pressing his head back into the cushion so their eyes can meet. 

Castiel gives him a lazy grin that makes Dean huff and shake his head. 

“I’m definitely down for more cuddling, but we gotta get cleaned up first.”

Castiel sits up, suddenly very aware of their current,  _ sticky _ situation and he huffs. “Right.” He looks down between them before he grimaces. “I have some pants you can borrow.” 

It doesn’t take much coaxing for both of them to separate and Dean heads into the bathroom, while Castiel ducks into his own room to grab some clothes for him, clearing his throat when he steps into the doorway. A stubborn piece of Dean’s hair is sticking up in the back and Castiel hands Dean black sweatpants and a clean towel, before he tries to push it back down. 

Dean huffs and ducks his head better so Castiel can push his fingers through his hair, Dean humming happily. He kisses Castiel one more time before he’s giving him a push with a soft, “Thanks, babe,” before he shuts the door. 

Oh, Castiel is in so much trouble. He listens to Dean move around behind the door for only a moment before he’s stepping away, first to peek in on Pug (who is sleeping soundly on his back, hooves in the air) and then to step into his own room to strip, clean up with some wet wipes he keeps by the bed, and change into his own sleep pants, Castiel exchanging his henley for a soft black v-neck that Castiel thinks compliments his flannel sleep pants. 

He beats Dean out and re-heats water for them, their first cups of tea stone cold and abandoned on the coffee table. Castiel scoops them away and leaves them in the sink to wash tomorrow.

His hands haven’t stopped shaking. Castiel can’t remember the last time he was with another man (which means it’s been far,  _ far _ too long) and for it to have been with Dean, for him to have been the one to bring Dean such pleasure, how is it possible? 

Castiel’s considering his options, lost in thought and mostly hoping none of this is a dream when big, warm hands slip around his waist before the line of Dean’s body is pressing against Castiel’s. He hooks his chin over Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m gonna bring over hot chocolate fixings.” 

“You like hot chocolate?” 

Dean scoffs. “Course, what’s not to like?” 

“True,” Castiel agrees. “So hot chocolate instead of coffee?” 

“Nah, I like coffee with my breakfast.” 

The words pop out and Castiel’s cheeks warm, the idea of waking up next to Dean blossoming in his mind. Before he can start dream of waffles in bed together, Dean kisses the back of his neck and Castiel can feel his grin against it. 

This is all Castiel wants.

The rest of the evening is spent talking about the books Castiel’s lent Dean, Dean  _ really  _ enjoying Treasure Island, science fiction and fantasy being his favorite genres which thrills Castiel, seeing as most of his personal collection is, in fact, made up of these kinds of books. Dean wants to show Castiel the movies he loves and they make plans to use Castiel’s laptop to do so, another night. It’s like that all night, plans and promises made between kisses and cups of tea, before Castiel’s walking Dean downstairs. 

Dean’s smile is sleepy when Castiel presses  _ Good Omens _ into his hands, promising him an adventure as he reads. “Thanks, Cas, I’ll get started right away.” Tucking the book into his bag, Dean cups Castiel’s face in his hands so he can pull him in for a kiss, Castiel not even hesitating to melt into Dean’s chest and kiss him back. 

He’s spent the night memorizing Dean’s lips and the way they taste sweet in a way Castiel’s never known, something straight from Dean himself, Castiel sure he could never find it anywhere else. He wouldn’t even want to try. 

Dean pulls away first, his hands sliding down to Castiel’s shoulders, his forehead pressing to Castiel’s. “Had a great time with you today.” 

Castiel smiles. “I as well, Dean, thank you for giving in to my whims.” If this is what it’s like to play hooky, Castiel thinks he should have started doing it long ago. 

“I’ll rebel with you anytime, Cas.” Another kiss warms Castiel all the way down to his bare feet and he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Dean’s shoulders to steal a few more kisses before Dean leaves him for the night. Or before Castiel does something really stupid like asking Dean to come back upstairs. 

It’s obvious Dean’s trying to get going, because he pulls out of their kiss again but with a huffing laugh, squeezing Castiel’s hips. “Hey before I go, I just—I wanted to say—” 

Castiel rubs the back of Dean’s neck, waiting for him to find what he wants to say. 

“Just—thanks, you know? For being so cool about the drinking thing earlier.” 

Castiel gives him an encouraging nod when Dean’s eyes meet his. Dean pulls in a steadying breath. “It’s a long story and we were havin’ such a great day, I didn’t want to ruin it. But I want to tell you.” Dean drops his gaze between them. “Wanna tell you everything, for some reason,” he huffs, and Castiel understands that sentiment. The urge to open up to Dean is strong and it frustrates Castiel that there isn’t enough time in the day to say all the things he wants to say to Dean, most of the time. 

“So, I meant to ask earlier, but we got a little uh,  _ distracted _ so I forgot.” Dean gestures to Castiel’s sweatpants, which he’s wearing home, his jeans from earlier folded and tucked under his arm. Dean teased that Castiel was making him do the walk of shame too early before they came downstairs and his cheeks get warm again. 

“Stop, that’s cute. This is why I forget everything,” Dean jokes. “I’m tryin’ to invite you to a party, Cas.” 

Castiel’s wide eyes meet Dean’s. “Another village party?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, next one of those is for the Fourth.” He licks his lips and Castiel swears—Dean’s nervous. “My brother’s kids are turning two and he’s hosting some kinda block party slash birthday party thing… it’s not for a month or so, you know, to kick off summer.” He shakes his head. “His wife  _ loves  _ to show off, it’s a weird suburban thing, I dunno—anyway, there’ll be good food and stuff, and I thought maybe it might be nice to go together.” Dean says the last bit in a rush but Castiel’s got the jist, starting to get the hang of understanding Dean when he is adorably stuttering his way through things. 

“Dean, I’d love to go with you.” 

Relief floods Dean’s green eyes. “Yeah? Awesome,” he breathes out, his previous worry gone. “I’ll text you the date.”

“When you get back safe,” Castiel reminds him. It’s late, and this  _ is _ New York City. It’s not that Castiel doesn’t think Dean capable of getting himself home safe, it’s other people he doesn’t trust. 

Dean reassures him with goodbye kisses and Castiel’s phone is buzzing when he gets back upstairs, Dean deciding to just call him as he walks back, Castiel tucking into bed that night with his phone wedged next to him, and Dean in his ear until they both fall asleep. 

They get into the habit of talking every night before bed. They fall into a lot of habits, in the following month, one of Castiel’s favorites being how they’ve timed their morning walks just right, Castiel adjusting his and Pug’s so they can meet Dean for a quick cuppa, or, if there isn’t time, a few quick kisses. 

The first time Castiel beats him to Donna’s cafe, he orders his drink and asks her what Dean’s favorite is, getting a raised eyebrow when he asks for a cup to go, and also a pound to take home. He thinks she’s happy for them if the hand drawn hearts on the bag and the wink she gives him is any sign. 

It’s like this all over the Village whenever they’re together. Rowena catches them on Castiel’s porch saying goodnight a few too many times, enough that he thinks she’s timing her trips to the bodega on the corner around when they end up there. 

They were heading home hand in hand one night after a walk over to the Brindle Room for hamburgers (only one of Dean’s favorite burger restaurants in the city, out of at least ten so far)(but by far the closest) when they passed by the firehouse, receiving quite a few catcalls and friendly jeers at the sight of them, the firefighters hanging out with their station doors up, sitting in folding chairs and on the bumper of their rigs, observing the city they swore to protect and especially, their corner of it. 

Benny ambles out of the chair he’s occupying to shake their hands, starting with Dean’s and including a friendly clasp to his shoulder. “Heya fellas, looks like the night is treating you well.” 

“How are ya, Benny?” Dean shakes his hand before Castiel does. 

Castiel shakes Benny’s hand next but addresses the crowd. “Yes, how are you all doing?” 

A few of the firefighters hold up cans of soda in acknowledgement and it’s nice to be familiar with them. Castiel wonders if they’d accept a lasagna or something, if he brought it by. 

“Ah, we’re all good, shift just changed so we’re gettin’ ready for dinner, got the rookie inside cookin’ up.” Benny grins when a few of the people behind him jeer. “You fellas eat?” 

“Just came from the Brindle.”

“Ooh, good burger,” Benny says and Castiel nods in agreement. “Well, we won’t keep ya,” he says, his eyebrow raising—a gesture Castiel’s getting familiar with when people realize he and Dean are dating. 

Not that either of them care. Dean made it clear the first time he held Castiel’s hand walking through the market but Dean’s such the gentlemen, he reassured Castiel that he didn’t care what anyone thought, although Dean used much more colorful words to convey his apathy about it. ( _ “I literally don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks, Cas.” _ )

There really aren’t many secrets in the Village. 

It’s also not a secret when Castiel begins to move the inventory back into the store. Well, the company he hires to officially catalogue and move it does. Dean thinks he should throw a party when he opens, but Castiel’s satisfied just to put an announcement in the Village Voice, along with an ad to run for the next few months. With all the work done in storage (finally), Castiel begins the process of hiring someone part time for the store. With Dean's suggestion to post on the NYU job boards, Castiel finds a nice young man named Kevin to come in four days a week to help. He's majoring in computer sciences so Castiel hopes he can help him learn the new POS system he purchased.

The original plan was to hire Claire to work after school and occasionally on Saturdays with him. In all the years of business, the store has never been open on Sunday’s and Castiel plans to keep it that way. But with Jimmy putting his foot down about their time together, Claire’s only been coming over once, maybe twice a week, usually on the weekends to spend Saturday night at Castiel’s. 

Her first night back, they went out for Ramen as promised and ran into Dean on the way home, him having been on his way back from delivering something uptown for Bobby. They had agreed Castiel and Claire needed a night together and seeing him was a happy accident. They hug goodnight and Dean’s wishing them a good time when  _ Claire _ asks if he wants to join them back at Castiel’s to hang out. The plan was to play a few rounds of Uno before bed and Dean was more than happy to join them, quicky turning their innocent game into a bartering match, the three of them using almonds to bet with,  _ Castiel _ coming out the winner with twelve almonds to Claire’s eleven and Dean’s ten. Now the both of them owe him an hour shift downstairs, which they both argue they’d be doing anyway, much to Castiel’s delight. Dean insisted he pay his debt by taking over Pug’s bath duty and Claire offers to pig sit whenever they might want to go out. Castiel doesn’t hesitate to book her for the day of Sam’s party. 

It’s one of the best nights Castiel can remember having in a very long time. 

The next time they do it, Dean brings Mouse Trap and Castiel makes pizza, letting everyone top their own personal pies and keeping his lips sealed tight when Dean sprinkles a few pieces of fresh cut pineapple on his. Dean thanks him with grateful, pineapple flavored kisses and teaches him how to play, only doing himself a disservice when Castiel beats him three times in a row. He likes to pretend that losing to Castiel upsets him, but only so Castiel will kiss away his pout.

Castiel’s most favorite time with Dean is spent when they lay together on the couch, Dean reclined between the vee of Castiel's legs, with Pug asleep on Dean’s chest. Dean props a book up and reads it as he strokes Pug’s back, only stopping to turn the page or press a kiss to the underside of Castiel’s chin. It’s quiet, and intimate, and it’s these nights that make his fondness for Dean grow. 

Anytime they're alone, they're touching; hugs, light squeezes (Dean enjoys an opportunity to squeeze Castiel's butt), hands in hair and the kissing… It’s wonderful. Especially when one or both of them forget to shave. Castiel's learned that Dean's facial hair grows in a little reddish, which he finds so incredibly sexy, probably because it accentuates his freckles even more, as if it were possible. Yes, Castiel quite likes Dean with a bit of scruff. And he's confident the sentiment is returned because anytime he bypasses his razor, he's being nuzzled to the extreme when they're together, not that Castiel minds in the slightest.

Their kissing gets away from them often. There’s no fault to be had, neither of them able to resist the other. The longer they stay lip locked, the further their hands wander, fingers always slipping under shirts to touch and explore, Dean always gentle yet insistent, the want clear behind each stroke of his fingers against Castiel’s skin, or when his lips drag across Castiel’s jaw and down his throat. 

But Dean always pulls away first, makes them catch their breath, stills their wandering hands which leaves them both wanting. Not to say he succeeds every time but more often than not, he’s able to go home in the clothes he arrived in. 

It’s almost a night where Dean fails but just as Castiel’s breath hitches, Dean pulls away with a frustrated groan, and  _ that’s  _ when Castiel pulls him back so he can suck Dean’s swollen bottom lip back into his mouth for one last taste before Dean returns home for the night, the question leaving his mouth before he can stop it. 

“Do you want to spend the night?”


	14. Chapter 14

“Next week,” Castiel goes on. “After Sam’s party, would you like to spend the night with me?” 

Dean’s eyes are wide when he pulls away, his hair disheveled, Castiel’s hands having made quite the mess while they were making out. Dean’s hair is a lovely shade of hunter green that makes his eyes glow and Castiel’s been unable to stop touching it or running his fingers through it and Dean’s just been loving it, teasing that he’s gonna make this color permanent but taking it back after Castiel swatted him over his joke. 

He loves Dean’s ever changing hair.

And his heart soars when those wide eyes crinkle at the corners as Dean’s smile grows. 

“Yeah? I mean, if you’re sure, I don’t want you to think—” 

“Dean.” Just saying his name stops Dean in his tracks. One thing Castiel’s noticed as they’ve gotten closer is just how sensitive Dean is to his moods and reactions to almost everything and anytime he gets flustered, Castiel’s always quick to want to calm him. 

And he  _ wants _ to spend the night with Dean. It’s something he goes to bed thinking about most nights, wishing they were exchanging their  _ sweet dreams  _ in each other’s arms and not with a phone between them. Castiel wants to wake up and hold Dean first thing in the morning, to kiss away his sleep and make him breakfast and coffee and walk hand in hand in their pajamas with Pug in the early light of day. 

Anything beyond that is simply a bonus. 

Dean’s brow crinkles before he goes on. “You know we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that? I invited you over. If anyone has salacious intentions, it would be me, Dean.” 

That’s only logical anyway, if Dean thinks Castiel feels rushed. 

“ _ Do _ you have salacious intentions?” Dean’s eyebrow goes up slyly and he caps off his question with a cute eyebrow wiggle. He’s very good at falling back into his playful self after moments of uncertainty and Castiel knows they won’t have any issues with this going forward. 

“I guess you’ll have to accept my invitation and find out,” Castiel replies, and he kisses Dean again, a little more purpose behind this one. 

A stray hand goes to the small of Castiel’s back to bring them close again, Dean kissing him back with enthusiasm. “I can bring a bag when I pick you up.” 

“Awesome,” Castiel says with a small smile that makes Dean grin wide and kiss him again before he departs for the evening. 

While it’s true that Castiel finds himself thinking more things “awesome _ ” _ in the last month, Dean’s favorite musing is often only a stray thought and something he says out loud with the sole intent to make Dean smile. And it always works. 

“See you bright and early for set up?” Tomorrow is Sunday.

Castiel hums. “Yes, Claire said she would bring Pug by on her way to the co-op, sometime around noon.” 

“Perfect.” Dean pushes a stray lock of hair from Castiel’s forehead and Castiel’s eyes linger on the leather bracelet Dean’s wearing, thinking how it feels, the long ends dancing along his skin when Dean’s hands wandered up his shirt tonight. “I’ll grab our drinks in the morning.” 

“Dean, let me. It’s on my way,” Castiel insists. Every other week they’ve had this argument, Dean insistent that they continue to trade off buying breakfast before the farmer’s market each week, now that Castiel’s selling beside him. 

Dean leans in like he has a secret. “It’s a surprise breakfast sandwich day. Donna’s gonna post it at midnight, limited number of sandwiches—it’s a  _ real _ bloodbath.” He’s whispering for effect and Castiel has to fight back his smile as he leans in to hear this hot scoop. “Our order is placed and will be ready for me to pick up, first thing, so you  _ see _ , I have to be the one that goes.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes to avoid laughing and kisses the tip of Dean’s nose. “Fine, Dean, you win.” 

“Just don’t fight me babe, I always win.” 

Dean’s lucky Castiel enjoys that nickname so much because he spares him a long lecture about how incorrect that statement is.

“Yeah, yeah, save it,” Dean teases, recognizing Castiel’s calculating thoughts. “See you in the mornin’, Cas.” Shaking his head, Dean turns the doorknob to pull the door open. Now that the store is open, Castiel insists they stay inside, not thinking their kissing the advertising Castiel is going for. 

He wishes Dean a safe walk back and Castiel watches him until he can’t anymore, and his cell phone is ringing in his pocket before he even gets to the staircase tonight. 

“So,  _ last  _ year at the twins party, Sam’s wife made him hire a  _ clown _ , and holy crap Cas, you should have seen his face when it showed up…” 

»»————-  (´･(00)･｀)  ————-««

The day of the party, its bright and hot when Dean arrives at Castiel’s, duffle slung over his shoulder. Castiel greets him with a kiss and tries to take his bag, but Dean won’t give it up. They tussle for a second before Castiel scowls and Dean relents, only so he can pinch Castiel in inappropriate places, made worse because they’re still down on the sales floor. 

Heading up the stairs, Castiel huffs, not expecting Dean’s bag to be so heavy.

“Doin’ okay? Need some help?” There’s a smile in Dean’s voice. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and he can hear Dean laugh behind him. “Well, how many nights do you plan to stay?” 

“No nights, you keep that up,” Dean gripes, giving Castiel another pinch as they go inside. 

“I’ll put your bag away, and then we can go?” Castiel asks over his shoulder, already heading to his bedroom.

“Wait!”

Castiel pauses. 

“Got some stuff in there I want out here,” Dean says, making Castiel turn and take the bag off his shoulder, handing it over. Dean puts it on the couch so he can dig through it. Castiel takes a second to appreciate him as he does so and Dean looks handsome today. Well—Dean looks handsome  _ every _ day, but it’s clear he took extra special care in his appearance when he got ready this morning. 

His outfit is new. Castiel knows because they went shopping together. The new grey pants flatter his bow legs and look good with his favorite black boots. Castiel picked out the flannel he’s wearing, a very handsome print made of navy blue, red, and a thin, off white weave, open over a white v-neck, Castiel’s favorite of his white shirts. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled to his elbows and he has a black strip of leather tied around one wrist and it’s almost too much, until Castiel takes into consideration Dean’s new hair color, the mauve Castiel’s such a fan of. Jo must have done it for him this morning because it’s vibrant and styled and Castiel can’t wait to run his hands through it later. 

What he should pay attention to is what Dean’s taking out of his bag. Castiel sees a stack of cassette tapes already sitting on one cushion and he watches as Dean extracts a long boom box from inside, explaining why it was so damn heavy. It’s an old one too, speakers on both ends and the tape deck in the middle and Castiel hides his grin because Dean’s been lamenting about Castiel needing one so they can listen to tapes together at night. 

Of course, he said it  _ last night _ so Castiel didn’t have time to get one but then again, he should have expected this. 

Treasures unloaded, Dean hands over his bag with a grin and it’s much lighter when Castiel tucks it into his room and closes the door behind him.

“You guys ready?” Claire’s been watching them with a smirk since they came upstairs. She arrived this morning for Pug-sitting and they’d just returned from a late walk, Pug now busy in his blankets after his quick trip down and up the stairs when he heard Dean arrive, his excited squeals filling the store before he took off up the stairs to wait for them at the top. He’s getting so good at them. 

“Cas, I got our tickets,” Dean reminds him, checking his pockets while he waits by the door. 

Castiel nods while he does the same to confirm that he has his wallet and his phone. “Claire, Rowena knows we’ll be gone all day so if you need anything, she is available and Kevin will be downstairs until six.” They don’t expect to be home until at least eight, considering they have to take a train  _ and _ a ferry over to Fairfield and back. 

“Uncle, I’m not a child,” she replies with a roll of her eyes. “Just have fun, don’t worry about us.” 

He looks over to Pug who is now asleep, one hoof out of his blanket being all Castiel can see of him. Blowing him a kiss, Castiel joins Dean, who is holding the door open. “Okay then, call if you need us.” Dean ushers him out as Castiel says it and he’s grinning at Claire and waving at her, birthday presents for the twins in hand. Dean insisted they go in on gifts together and he found a rather large amount of play-dough he said the kids would love but Castiel insisted on at least a few books for both of them be tucked into each of the matching blue and purple striped gift bags. 

When they get downstairs, Castiel places both in a larger reusable bag to protect them from the city dirt as they make their way across town. Dean was all apologies at first about the distance, but since neither of them have cars, it was either this or a very expensive rental car. Castiel assured him he doesn’t mind how long it takes to get anywhere, as long as they’re together. 

That made Dean blush pink enough for him to stop worrying about it. 

And Castiel was right because their trip is lovely. The Long Island Railroad is always comfortable and easy to manage and the seats have tall backs so no one really notices if they kiss a lot on the ride to Port Jefferson. The ferry is crowded on a Saturday and they can’t find seats, so they end up leaning against the railing for most of the trip, the bag of gifts between them. 

The closer they get to Fairfield, the more Dean fidgets. His fingers tap against the railing of the boat, he tugs at the corner of Castiel’s shirt, and more than once he has to stop himself from running a hand through his hair and messing it up. The next go round at Castiel’s lapels has Castiel grabbing Dean’s hands to still them. 

“It’s going to be fine,” he assures him, holding Dean’s hands tight as he sighs heavily in response. Last night while they were laying together on the couch, Dean confessed that he’d only spoken briefly to Sam to confirm his attendance (plus one) but his brother still wanted to talk, so he wanted to forewarn Castiel and ask him to ignore any family drama. 

Castiel assumes if Sam’s wife loves appearances so much, maybe there won’t need to be any. However, should anyone decide they would like to try, Castiel has a plan. If Dean needs his help to be a buffer, Castiel will be the best damn buffer anyone’s ever seen but considering it’s their first time meeting, he’s sure everyone will be on their best behavior. He even tries to explain his stance to Dean.

Of course, Dean doesn’t buy it, but Castiel can tell he tries. He puts on a brave face when their Lyft driver drops them off in front of a very respectable, two-story Colonial, painted an unassuming shade of yellow, with white trim and a grey roof. The yard is impeccable and there’s a large bunch of brightly colored balloons tied to the mailbox by the street and swaying in the breeze. At least it’s cooler here than in the city. 

They go up the walk hand in hand, Dean’s sweaty and cool and Castiel wishes he could do more to ease his anxiety. Before they go in, Dean stops Castiel at the door to run his hands down Castiel’s shirt, smoothing the places it’s bunched at his hips. Castiel tries to press down the wrinkles he has from sitting, but he gives Dean a half-hearted shrug and furrows his brow when it doesn’t work. “Sorry, I wrinkle easily.” 

“I like it,” Dean assures him, taking a moment to kiss him slow. Castiel doesn’t mind when he deepens their kiss, needing Dean’s help to soothe his own nerves. It’s a big deal to him, meeting Dean’s brother. It’s obvious Dean loves him very much, despite what seems to be a slightly turbulent relationship between them and Castiel just wants to make the best impression he can. 

He’d like to be in Dean’s life for a very long time, if Dean’s amenable.

Dean’s arms are tight around him and Castiel hugs him back until he feels Dean’s racing heart slow. Pulling out of his embrace, Dean gives him another shaky kiss before he nods and shakes his head a bit, like he’s trying to loosen the rest of the way up, even rolling his shoulders and Castiel makes a mental note to rub them later. Dean’s holding Castiel’s gaze and he hopes he finds whatever strength he needs to push open the door. 

The choice is taken out of their hands when the door swings open to reveal a very  _ tall _ man, so tall Castiel has to take a step back. 

“Sammy,” Dean says, stepping forward to hug his little (???) brother, the man moving right into his embrace.

“Dean, how are ya?” He slaps Dean on the back a few times in greeting.

Sam Winchester is not what Castiel was expecting. When Dean would speak of him, Castiel imagined someone young, maybe a little straight laced and gawky—more lawyerly. He certainly wasn’t expecting Sam to be almost a head taller than him and broad chested, his hair longer than Castiel would presume acceptable for someone working in the District Attorney’s office.

He’s also clearly pleased to see Dean, which makes Castiel hopeful that all of Dean’s worrying will have been for nothing.

When they break apart, Dean’s hand goes right for Castiel’s and he clears his throat. “I’m good, Sammy, real good.” He squeezes Castiel’s hand and it makes his stomach flip. “Like you to meet my boyfriend, Castiel Novak. He owns a bookstore in the village.” 

Dean’s talking but Castiel’s no longer listening.  _ Boyfriend _ . Dean just introduced him as his boyfriend and they’ve never—they haven’t—Castiel’s heart fills with warmth and pride, but his growing smile is cut off by the sudden strain in Sam’s voice.

“Boyfriend? You didn’t say he was—”

“What, Sam?” Dean cuts in. “Is that an issue?” 

“N-no,” Sam sputters. “But you could have warned me—” 

Castiel has to stop this, they can’t start out the day like this. He can discuss it with Dean later, if it’s going to be a problem. Feeling flustered, he shakes his head. “Dean, we don’t have to—” 

“Enough,” Dean barks out, silencing them both. He gives Sam a pointed look. “I thought you were gonna invite us in.” His hand tightens it’s hold on Castiel’s as he tips his chin up, jaw clenched and ready if Sam has more to say. 

He must not, because he only stares Dean down for a moment before relenting, and ducking his head with a sheepish grin, now pointed at Castiel. “Hi. Sam Winchester.” He sticks a hand out, which Castiel shakes with only a second of hesitation. “Welcome to my home, won’t you please come in?” It’s definitely a polite, customer service voice he’s switched to, but it seems to make Dean happy.

“Thank you, we’d love to,” he replies, grinning up at Sam. “Now move aside, moose, so I can find the birthday boy and girl!” 

A litany of “ _ Dee Dee Dee Dee”  _ comes from two tiny, dark-haired children that come running from the back of the house when they hear Dean’s voice. He let’s go of Castiel so he can scoop both squealing children up, one into each arm, both of their tiny bodies nestled safely there as he lifts and spins them to their delight. 

This must be Mary and Camp. Identical twins named after Dean and Sam’s mother, Mary is wearing a pretty black-and-white striped dress, a little jean jacket over it. Camp (short for Campbell) has on a shirt that matches his sisters dress and a pair of cuffed jeans. Both babies are barefoot, their little feet kicking the air as Dean blows air bubbles into their stomachs. 

Castiel can’t look away from the three of them and thank goodness Sam asks him a question because he’s sure he’s been forgetting to breathe as he watches Dean laugh with his niece and nephew. 

Herding them all toward the kitchen, Sam gestures towards the refrigerator. “Castiel, can I grab you a beer? Got some cold ones in here but the full bar is out back.” 

Castiel shakes his head as he extracts the twin’s presents from their travel bag. “No, thank you.” 

“Dean! Beer?” Sam barks out his question and Castiel looks up from folding the bag, confused.

Dean freezes, a twin still in each arm. Mary squirms enough for Dean to lean to one side and let her slide out of his grip and to the ground so she can toddle over to the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard. Camp is too enthralled with Dean’s hair to want to be put down and Dean lets him touch all he wants as he frowns. “Dude, no—for the millionth time.” 

Castiel furrows his brow and looks back and forth between them. Sam has to know that Dean doesn’t drink so why is he offering him a beer? Sam appears impatient and he shrugs before he pulls a bottle out of the open door, using a bottle opener on a magnet to open it. “I didn’t think beer counted, sorry.” He takes a sip and raises his eyebrows and Castiel doesn’t think he’s all that sorry.

Dean rolls his eyes and puts Camp down so he can follow Mary. He lost interest in Dean’s hair when he noticed his sister missing, but not before he messed some of it up, a purple lock sticking straight up in the back. 

“All the booze counts, man,” Dean tells him as Castiel comes over to push the hair back in place, Dean’s hand sliding to the small of Castiel’s back as he does it. 

Sam’s eyes flick up to take in Dean’s color and Castiel wonders if he’s as transparent in court as he is right now, the crease between his brows deepening with his displeasure. Thankfully, he seems to be as smart as Dean said because Sam keeps his comments to himself.

Castiel is annoyed. He doesn’t  _ want  _ to be, but something about the way Sam offered Dean a beer rubs him the wrong way. He remembers Dean’s assumption about him first offering alcohol and Castiel can’t help but wonder how often this exchange has happened. 

And that irritates him. Part of him is tempted to say something snarky but, as his  _ boyfriend _ would say, Castiel probably needs to cool it. 

Dean’s hand stays firm on Castiel’s back as he gestures towards the open French doors. “Got somethin’ else to drink out there for us?” 

Sam grimaces as he tips his head towards the backyard. “We have  _ everything  _ else. Bela insisted.” 

Castiel doesn’t know what that means, but he never thought to take Sam literally _ .  _ When they step out into the sunshine, they can see that the backyard does, in fact, have everything else. 

There’s a giant bounce house in the shape of a castle in the back corner and next to it, an honest to goodness  _ petting zoo _ , which makes Castiel think they could have brought Pug. He would have loved this. To their right, there’s someone painting faces, and next to them, a balloon artist is twisting his balloons into animal shapes and hats with silly toppers. Children of all ages run around the large backyard, moving from station to station while their mothers occupy round tables under a canopy, all with drinks in hand while their kids dart in and out of the shade for their attention. The men are gathered around a smoking barbeque, a large flat-screen hanging from the rafters above them, some baseball game on as the guys sip drinks and talk. 

There’s music coming from somewhere and the air is filled with laughter and children’s happiness and if their goal was to impress, Sam and his wife are succeeding. 

Dean’s pouring them cups of lemonade after Sam pointed out which carafes were alcohol free, when a rather beautiful woman appears at Sam’s side. Her brown hair is curled around her face and she’s wearing a dress similar to Mary’s and now that Castiel’s noticing, Sam matches the rest of them too. Castiel doesn’t quite know what to make of it, other than concluding that this must be Bela. 

She doesn’t hide the way she looks Castiel up and down as she’s holding out her hand to him to shake. “Bela Talbot-Winchester,” she says, and her voice makes Castiel’s skin crawl for some reason and the way her smile curls at the edges doesn’t help. “You’re Dean’s  _ friend _ ?” 

Ignoring the inflection, Castiel shakes her hand, letting it go when he finds it ice cold. “Castiel Novak, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” It’s not. “Thank you both for having me, your home is lovely.” That’s the truth but Castiel already doesn’t like Bela and he’s having a hard time with Sam as it is. Meeting his wife isn’t helping.

“Hey! Sam!” They all turn towards the voice calling Sam from the yard. He acknowledges the person calling him and squeezes Bela’s shoulders once before he lets her go. “Brady needs help, be back in a bit.” 

The moment Sam steps off the back porch, Bela’s entire demeanor changes. Her eyes narrow into slits as she takes in the two of them standing together and her critical eye makes Castiel shift uncomfortably. 

“Oh, here we go,” Dean mutters and Castiel stiffens. 

“So how long have you been back on  _ men _ , Dean?” Her voice is venomous and Castiel sucks in a breath at the intense shift in her tone. She sneers as them as she continues. “Or is this another one of your  _ roommates?”  _

Castiel takes back what he said about Bela being beautiful.

Dean lets out a disgusted grunt. “And there it is.” He crosses one arm over his chest and props the other over it so he can point a finger towards her. “See Cas, the thing is, Bela here doesn’t understand that it’s possible to just be  _ friends _ with someone and not  _ fuck _ them. Ain't that right, Bela?” 

Pride runs through Castiel’s veins listening to Dean not take this vile woman’s shit, even if he doesn’t know half the story. 

“Always so charming, Dean,” she snaps, her hands going to her hips in indignation. Dean’s hand moves to Castiel’s back and he clenches Castiel’s shirt and it’s clear Dean is trying hard to hold his composure. “You should try to hang on to someone who’s willing to put up with your nonsense.”

“That’s code for being poor,” Dean advises him, glaring at Bela, who smirks at him. “Bela was that girl who went to college just to land a husband, and she landed my dumbass little brother.” 

“Yes, and look where it got me,” she replies, twisting the very large diamond on her finger with a nasty snicker and a flick of her hair towards the lavish party. 

“Right.” Dean snorts, unimpressed. “How is that whole  _ mothering _ thing going anyway, Bela? Thought I heard one of the twins call the nanny ‘mommy’ earlier.” 

The snide grin turns horrified and Bela’s eyes dart around, checking to see if anyone overheard him. Finding no reaction past Dean’s smirk and Castiel trying to hide his laughter behind his hand, she glares at him. “Oh, fuck you Dean,” she hisses, before she turns on her high heel to stalk into the backyard, a cloud of expensive and terrible smelling perfume the only thing left in her wake. 

Castiel raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “Your brother married that?” There’s no way that was real.

“Don’t even get me started.” Dean finally lets Castiel’s shirt go, only to take his hand and lead him into the wilds of the party, a feat Castiel feels even less prepared for, now that he’s met both their hosts. “No  _ clue _ what he ever saw in her, she’s awful.” 

“Even to the children?” It’s almost puzzling now, how normal the kids seem.

“Bela doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body. Lucky for the twins, they have a kickass nanny.” Well, that makes the most sense out of everything so far. “Eileen’s been with the twins since they were born. Bela popped them out and handed them over, which is probably for the best.” 

Dean nods over towards the balloon art station, where Castiel can see Mary and Camp sitting side by side while two balloon artists make funny shaped hats for them. A pretty, dark haired woman stands in front of them, her hands flying while she signs, both twins watching and occasionally signing back to her, small gestures with their pudgy hands that can’t quite make the signs correctly. 

“Eileen is hearing impaired?” he asks, surprised but delighted.

Dean’s staring at them still but his smile falters as he looks back at Castiel, guarded. “That a problem?” 

Castiel frowns. “Of course not, it’s just been a long time since I’ve signed, I would have liked to brush up. Why would you think—”

“Ah shit, I’m sorry Cas,” Dean lets out in a big breath, taking their now empty cups to toss them into the nearby trash can. He grabs Castiel’s hand. “I didn’t mean to be a jerk, it’s just Bela you know? She gets under my skin in the worst way.” 

Castiel shakes his head. “I can see why.”

“You okay?” Dean pulls him into the shade of the bounce house. “I thought she might contain her inner demon, but apparently, anything I do is open season to that bitch. She can never just leave me alone.” 

Castiel frowns and runs a hand up Dean’s arm. “And that doesn’t upset Sam?” 

Dean scoffs. “You saw her, Stepford wife when he’s around.” 

“He can’t be that obtuse.” And frankly, Castiel doesn’t think Bela could be that good at hiding her disdain for Dean, considering she showed it to Castiel without a second's hesitation.

“He’s not.” 

That’s all Dean says and his statement is heavily loaded. After that, Dean insists they enjoy the party and eat all of Bela’s food while they’re ignored by Sam and Bela’s friends, except for a few strange looks. They find an empty table away from the louder parts of the party and they’re deep in conversation about the first half of Good Omens when a shadow falls over them. They’ve finished eating and one of Dean’s hands is tangled in both of Castiel’s across the table as they talk, Dean needing at least one hand free to talk with. Both of them looking up, they blink against the glare of the sun before realizing it’s Sam standing in front of them, his eyes trained on their hands. 

He clears his throat and Castiel tightens his grip. “You guys having a good time? Can I get you anything?”

“Nah,” Dean replies, putting one hand up to block the sun. "I think we’re good. Great party, like always.” 

“Thanks,” Sam replies and he stuffs his hands in his pockets, his eyes dropping to his feet. It makes him look a lot smaller than his six plus feet and it’s not until he turns a rather impressive set of puppy dog eyes on his brother, does Castiel know why. “Dean, would it be okay if we talked?” 

Castiel thinks he just figured out how Sam wins so many cases and the fact that he’s using it to manipulate Dean into a conversation he doesn’t want to have makes Castiel’s blood pressure go up. 

Dean’s hand tightens in his and before he can say anything, Castiel speaks up. “You know Sam, we were actually just talking about getting more food, and I’d love to take a look at that amazing barbeque I saw earlier.” 

Castiel couldn’t  _ give a shit _ about that monstrosity but he’d sit through a three hour Ted talk about it if it meant helping Dean and when he can feel Dean relax next to him, he feels justified, even more so when Dean joins his ruse without hesitation.

“And I was just telling Cas how much I like seconds,” Dean chimes in, standing and pulling Castiel up with him. “Lead the way, Sammy.” 

Realizing he doesn’t have much of a choice, Sam nods and turns to take them over to the built in, customized barbeque and outdoor kitchen he has, and also where he and his friends have been congregating for most of the day. They’re all wearing pastel colored polos and chinos that have ironed in creases and if Castiel’s being honest, they all kind of look alike. Thank goodness Sam’s tall. 

None of them bother to introduce themselves, either. The only one of Sam’s friends they’re made to talk to is his best friend since college, a man named Brady who’s smile might be nice if he wasn’t so smarmy, everything out of his mouth sounding insincere. The way he looks Dean up and down with thinly veiled amusement doesn’t make Castiel very happy either. 

Castiel can only conclude that he’s jealous, considering Dean is the most good looking man  _ at _ this nightmare party. 

His plan was a successful one, because Castiel and Dean give Sam the slip when he gets distracted by his friends. They make a wide loop around the yard to hide out by the petting zoo but it’s a terrible hiding place, because the twins spot Dean the moment they reach the fence, both of them running over calling his name until he joins them inside. Castiel follows and finally has the wonderful pleasure of meeting Eileen. 

Without a doubt, she’s the nicest person Castiel’s met since he arrived in Connecticut. He learns that Eileen is an Au Pair, working here on a visa from Ireland where she got her degree in early childhood education. She’s thrilled to meet someone who signs, telling Castiel that aside from the kids, Sam is the only other person who is (almost) fluent in the house. It doesn’t surprise Castiel that Bela didn’t bother to learn. He chose sign language for his undergrad requirement and he’s rusty, but it’s not long before the signs start to come back to him and soon, their hands are flying while they talk about making large, cross country moves, something else they have in common. 

She’s truly a breath of fresh air. 

Dean’s having a blast playing with the kids, if his wide smile is any sign as he takes them around to each animal, giving Eileen a well deserved break. The first time Castiel glanced at him, he found Dean staring at him too, his face soft and happy to see him and Eileen talking, which, since they do it with their hands, Castiel has to pay close attention to, but anytime he’s mid-sentence, he lets his eyes flick to find mauve hair mixed in with regular shades and every time he finds Dean, Castiel can’t fight his smile. 

_ “Don’t worry, he can’t stop looking at you either,” _ Eileen signs, her smile teasing. 

Castiel ducks his head, and signs an apology.  _ “He’s just very handsome,”  _ Castiel signs, trusting Eileen. Maybe it’s the privacy of their conversation, but Castiel thinks it’s because he feels very at ease with her, both of them not quite fitting into this perfect suburban landscape. He wonders how much time Dean’s spent with Eileen, because Castiel thinks they’d get along fabulously. 

She smiles slyly at him.  _ “And great with kids,” _ Eileen replies, tilting her head over to Dean with his niece and nephew, Mary in his arms and Camp on his shoulders, the three of them saying hello to a beautiful red, yellow, and blue macaw being held by one of the attendants. The kids are hiding their faces but Castiel and Eileen watch as Dean talks to them and one by one, coaxes them out of the curve of his neck and his hair to at least  _ look _ at the bird. Only another moment passes before Mary is reaching out tentatively to stroke one finger down a tail feather, her brother copying her, so as not to be left out. 

Dean high fives them both for being so brave when the bird is taken away. 

He turns back to Eileen, his heart full, and all Castiel can do is clasp her hands in his, conveying that she’s right, that there’s not much more to say after that. He doesn’t forget to sign his thanks to her, as Dean and the twins approach. 

“Looks like you two are having fun.” Dean tries too hard to talk, sign, and hold Mary but fails, and Eileen laughs and taps her mouth, indicating that she can read lips. Considering she’s around people holding babies all the time, it makes sense she’d be great at it. Doing Dean a favor, Eileen takes Mary from his arms, booping Camp on the nose when he won’t follow, his hands fisted in Dean’s hair and the foot Dean’s not holding, kicking against his chest. 

“We are,” Castiel replies, speaking and signing at the same time. “You didn’t tell me Eileen came here from Ireland.” When they were talking last night, Dean gave him a cast of characters and Eileen was included, but the information didn’t go much beyond her working for the family. 

“Sorry babe,” Dean replies, signing better now that he’s mostly hands free, and Camp has stopped his wiggling. “But I should have known you two would hit it off, Sam told me about you going to school and stuff.” 

At the mention of his brother, a faint blush dusts Eileen’s cheeks, even if her smile doesn’t waiver. 

“Did I hear someone say my name?” 

Eileen’s blush deepens when Sam’s hand slips onto her shoulder, Mary turning in her arms and Camp screeching and reaching for his dad as he comes up behind her. Dean leans down as Sam’s hand falls away and he steps in to retrieve his son from Dean’s shoulders. 

“Daddy, cake?” Mary speaking to Sam forces Eileen to finally turn to him and then Sam reddens and  _ that’s _ when Castiel and Dean exchange a look, further warranted when Sam acts like he’s never been taught to form words, stumbling over a simple answer for his daughter, signing and speaking simultaneously while Camp attempts to climb his shoulders to reach a higher perch than his previous one. 

“That’s why I’m here, pumpkin, for cake—to bring you cake—to your cake.”

Dean snorts to smother back a laugh and Sam glares at him. 

“It’s time for cake,” he says, getting to the point. “We need to get you two washed up.” 

Eileen claps and sign to the kids about cleaning up before they can blow out their birthday candles and the four of them walk away, Sam’s eyes still on Eileen as she reminds the kids to listen and be patient while everyone sings. 

Castiel’s attention is ripped away from them when Dean grabs his hand to pull him towards the now empty bounce house, letting him go to toe off his boots and scramble inside, Castiel left with no choice but to follow, grabbing Dean’s hand when he sticks it out of the velcro straps that make up the flimsy closure. He yanks, and Castiel tumbles into the inflatable house, the air inside making them roll and fold over too easily. 

At first, it’s annoying not to be able to get his balance but then he hears little evil giggles coming from his left and Castiel narrows his eyes, turning to confirm that yes, Dean is  _ laughing _ at him. Already found his center, Dean’s propped gracefully on one arm, the long length of his body stretched across the middle of the bounce house, one bow leg propped up and his ever handsome, cocky, and irresistible grin on display. 

He really thinks he’s so cute. 

Castiel might not be able to get his knees under himself quickly, but he  _ can _ wrap his fingers around Dean’s ankle and pull, hard enough to knock Dean’s arm out from under him as Castiel drags him as collateral to get his own balance. Dean’s laughing when Castiel swings one leg over his thighs, using Dean’s upper arms to balance and Dean grabbing him to help. 

They’re both a little breathless and flushed from the heat when Castiel ducks down to steal a kiss, Dean taking advantage and pulling him in for more than just one until they’re smiling against each other’s mouths. Together they roll onto their stomachs to watch the festivities happening on the back patio. 

Everyone is gathered around wherever the twins must be and the singing starts when Sam comes out of the house with a large cake in his hands, four candles on top—two for each twin. 

Their uncle used to bake them each a mini round cake for their birthdays. Chocolate for Castiel and vanilla for Jimmy. 

“Cas?” Dean’s quiet voice pulls Castiel from his musings. “What’s on your mind? You looked a little far away there for a minute.” 

Castiel smiles ruefully. “My uncle used to bake us each a cake on our birthday. He did it every year until we moved out.” 

“Do you miss him?” 

It’s an easy question, but it doesn’t come with an easy answer so he has to admit that he doesn’t know. “Sometimes? Like now, when he comes to mind.”

“I used to think that’s how it worked, like, you only miss someone when they pop up in a memory,” Dean muses. “But then I met you.” Castiel looks at him, and he’s still staring out at the party, the shadow of the netting criss-crossing his face. 

“Missing someone is like, it’s like an ache in your chest, you know,” Dean’s hand goes up to brush his collarbones idly. “Started feelin’ it whenever I wasn’t with you and then I’d see you and,” he splays his fingers. “Feelin’s gone.” 

What the hell else is Castiel supposed to do but kiss him? He kisses him hard enough to push him over so Castiel can lean his weight across Dean’s chest, Dean’s arms going around him, easily accepting his role, to fulfill Castiel’s overwhelming  _ need _ for him. 

They’re sunk well into the inflatable surface when Castiel pulls away. “How do you keep doing this?” 

“What,” Dean asks, smile crooked like he doesn’t know, which Castiel finds highly unlikely. 

“Enchanting me,” Castiel sighs, pressing his forehead to Dean’s shoulder as he laughs. 

“Now you’re gettin’ sappy on me,” Dean teases him, making Castiel huff. 

“You’re one to talk,” Castiel replies, leaning in for another kiss but getting interrupted by a giggling, cake smeared Camp climbing through the bounce house, Sam’s head and shoulders poking in after him. 

“Here you are! You missed the cake!” He furrows his brow in disapproval at them. “The kids were asking for you.” 

Castiel frowns down at them, not seeing anything untoward. His hand is resting on Dean’s chest and Dean’s hands are propped under his head as he stares his brother down but aside from the fact that they’re laying down, Castiel doesn’t know what he could be scowling at. 

He doesn’t have time to think about it because Camp comes stumbling into them, Dean catching him as the toddler falls into his chest.

“Whoa, buddy,” Dean says, righting him as Camp tries to push himself up and sign something to Dean at the same time. Using a hand to help steady him, Castiel recognizes the sign for paint before Dean does. 

“I think he’d like for you to get your face painted.” 

“Face!” Camp shouts, patting Dean’s before he signs  _ please. _ They’re both sitting up to accommodate him (impossible not too) when he leans over to pat Castiel’s face too with another rub to his chest to ask please. 

“Yeah, Cas,  _ please _ ,” Dean signs with an adorable pout and wide, blinking green eyes that match his nephew’s hazel ones and that’s it, Castiel’s a goner, no chance for him to recover from here. He knows it for sure, even as he crawls awkwardly out of the bounce house only to find Dean there waiting with the steady hand Castiel needs. 

Hand in hand, they follow Sam and Camp to join Eileen and Mary at the face painting station and all of them end up having different things painted on their faces, Dean looking especially adorable with his favored Batman logo on his cheek. Castiel’s is a Superman logo, after Dean requested that they match. 

That launches the brothers into a playful argument about which superhero is better and since Castiel holds no opinion on that, he’s easily distracted by helping Eileen get both twins over to the balloon artist for more zoo animals and he’s being fitted for his own balloon hat when he realizes Dean and Sam are no longer amongst them. 

Frustrated, Castiel can only sit and wait for his balloon hat to be completed and then he has to find the polite time to excuse himself and all the while, there’s still no sign of the brothers. It’s not like Dean can’t handle himself, but that doesn’t mean he has to be alone in it, and Castiel wants to be close by, in case Dean needs anything.

Deciding that they’re probably inside the house, Castiel heads for the patio to grab a piece of cake, red velvet, if the garish color is any indication and he’s pushing it around his plate when the sound of raised voices from inside interrupts him.

“Dude—I said  _ no.”  _ The anger in Dean’s voice is crystal clear, even from outside. “That’s my final answer, no passing Go, no collecting two hundred bucks, got it?”

“Oh my god, Dean, are you _ever_ gonna grow up? This is really fucking serious_,_ this is _dad_ we’re talking about.” 

Dean answers, but it’s muffled now, and Castiel can’t make it out. He hesitates, torn between wanting to go in and break up their conversation before it escalates, and not knowing where his boundaries lay here. Calling Castiel his boyfriend aside, this is still Dean’s  _ family,  _ and there are just some places you tread lighter than others. 

Castiel does the next best thing, using the ruse of finding a trashcan to step inside, leaving his balloon hat on a nearby chair. The kitchen is to his right and he hovers around the garbage can, every nerve standing on end as he strains to hear any more snippets of conversation. 

He doesn't have to eavesdrop for long (which he'll apologize to Dean for later) because soon, their voices are back and sounding right on the other side of the swinging door that leads to the formal dining room they passed earlier.

"I know you think it's  _ fun _ to ride your bike and play around with your painting and the people you live with but enough's enough, you know." Sam's tone is dripping with condescension and fury ignites under Castiel's skin. 

"Sammy, you have no idea what you're talking about, man." Dean sounds frustrated, and rightly so. "Not about my life and  _ definitely  _ not shit about mine and dad's relationship."

"What relationship?"

"Exactly," Dean spits out. "And that's how we both like it so just do me a favor and stay the hell out of it, okay?"

"No, I won't Dean. This is important.” 

"What the hell could be so important this time, huh Sam? He shows up every few years looking for money and now you have some, so congratulations, you're the winner, tell him what he's won—" 

"Dad's dying."

Sam cuts Dean off and delivers the news so casually, Castiel has to repeat the words in his head to catch their severity. 

"Don't." His one word answer is all Castiel needs to hear to know that Dean’s upset.

"He's fucking dying, Dean." Sam pauses. "And he wants to see you."

"I'm outta here." Before Castiel can react, the door is being pushed open and Dean comes through, fury etched across his face that falters the moment he sees Castiel on the other side, waiting for him. "Cas, I'm sorry, we gotta—" 

"I'll call for the car." Castiel is already pulling his phone out. If Dean wants to go, they're leaving. 

"Dean, wait." Sam follows Dean, hot on his trail and ready to reach out for Dean's shoulder when Castiel's sharp gaze stops him. Sam's hand falls back to his side. "Come on, you can't hear him out? It's the very least you could do, after everything."

Hands clenched to his sides, Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he turns slowly back to face Sam. "I don't owe him shit, Sam. Now,  _ please  _ drop it."

A tinkling laugh breaks the tension between the brothers. "Told him about John, did you?" Bela's poison tongue spits venom from the doorway and Dean flinches and clenches his jaw, only looking at Castiel for a second before his face is crumbling and he's pushing past them all, heading straight for the front door. 

Before Castiel can follow and get them the fuck out of this suburban hell, a loud sigh from Sam stops him and for a moment, Castiel thinks he might actually do or say something to salvage this moment.

"I'm really sorry about my brother," he says to Castiel, sounding exhausted about the whole thing and something snaps inside of him. Straightening himself to his full height, he looks right at Sam, refusing to partake in his attempt to further disparage Dean, as if he's the one who's acted like the assbutt today. Sam’s looking at him with an expression of pity, mixed with resignation, as if this is what he has to look forward to and for a moment, Castiel feels sorry for  _ him _ because it’s clear Sam doesn’t know the Dean that Castiel does.

"If anyone should apologize, it's the two of you." Ignoring the appalled gasp from Bela, Castiel continues as Sam's eyes widen. "I would thank you for the hospitality, but neither of you have shown any today."

That said, Castiel doesn't give the couple a chance to respond before he's following in Dean's wake and exiting the picture perfect home, seeing Dean standing on the sidewalk a few houses away, arms crossed over his chest as he stares down the street, lost in thought. Castiel avoids the walkway and walks across the perfectly manicured lawn on purpose, confirming that their Lyft will arrive in less than three minutes and crossing everything he can that Sam doesn’t follow them outside before it’s arrival.

Castiel says nothing when he joins Dean's side, only slipping his arm around Dean's waist. When Dean sags into him, all Castiel can do is hold him tighter. He doesn't let go as they ride silently back to the ferry, their driver recognizing the tension they carry and staying quiet during their ride. 

Dean holds his hand and leans into him but he doesn't say a word until they're almost ten minutes into their boat ride back to Long Island. The sun has dropped low enough that it's no longer hot, and the breeze coming off the water is a comfort after a day such as today. Dean led them to the front of the boat and he's had his face tipped up to feel the breeze and the spray from the water, and Castiel can't help but stare at the way the tiny droplets of water cling to his hair and eyelashes, making him almost glisten in the fading dusk. 

Hands clasped in front of him as he leans over the railing, Dean tilts his head to finally look at Castiel. "I'm sorry you had to hear that shit. Coming here was a terrible idea and I shoulda known that—shit, I didn’t even get to say goodbye to the twins." He looks back at his hands and the big muscle in his jaw flexes.

Castiel is already shaking his head. “Dean, it’s not your fault. I’m not sure how anyone could be expected to hold their composure as well as you did today. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t met such unpleasant people in a long time.” He frowns. “After all you said about Sam…”

Dean makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t know that guy, Cas, he—” Standing up straight, Dean bangs his closed fists on the railing, his anger still evident in the rigidness of his shoulders. “He just can’t help himself, you know? Can’t take no for an answer.” 

The ache Castiel feels, yearning to comfort Dean but not knowing what to say. His own problems with his twin echo in his thoughts. 

“Kid’s always been stubborn as hell and he always has to be right but the thing is, he doesn’t know shit about it.” 

Dean’s not making a lot of sense, but that doesn’t matter right now. Castiel places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, just wanting to bring him a little peace, especially after he spent so much time worrying, only for those worries to be confirmed. He tightens his grip, and when Dean looks over at him again, his green eyes are filled with an anguish that has Castiel pulling Dean to him in an instant. 

Burying his face in the curve of Castiel’s neck, Dean sucks in a sharp breath. “I wish we hadn’t come. Wish I never brought you here, Cas.” 

Anxiety spikes through him, and Castiel feels sick. “Dean, please don’t say that.” 

Dean doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t move and they spend the rest of the ferry ride like this, with Castiel’s arms wrapped around Dean’s back, Dean’s face hidden while he breathes, and the tension doesn’t leave him, and Castiel’s heart pounds because this one bad thing will not derail them. He wants to be back in their Village, where they belong, where people admire and care for Dean and don’t make him feel small, where Dean doesn’t regret their time together. 

Castiel can’t wait to get them home so they can cuddle Pug together because if anything could make them feel better, it’s him. 

The rest of their trip home is solemn. Dean doesn’t say much, aside from making sure Castiel’s comfortable, that they buy the right subway tickets and get on the right train. Castiel keeps reaching for his hand but he doesn’t get to keep it for long, Dean finding various reasons to take it back and every time he does it, Castiel’s mood gets greyer and greyer. 

They’re both low when they take the stairs up from their subway exit and it’s dark out, their trip home feeling extra long. Castiel just wants to get home, shower, and go to bed. He doubts Dean wants to stay anymore, he hardly wants to look at him so maybe it’s just better that they call it a night. 

Before Castiel can say anything, Dean stops and takes a deep breath, letting his head fall back so his face tips up to the stars. With nothing better to do, Castiel joins him and each breath in and out reminds him that they’re back. Everything about Connecticut, about Fairfield, about the suburbs and that terrible party doesn’t feel as awful, when the everyday hum of the park and the splashing of the fountain begin to slow his racing heart with its simplicity, with its familiarity and for a moment, it’s easy to begin to let everything go. 

And as they stand there, and Dean’s hand finds Castiel’s again, Castiel hopes he feels it too.


	15. Chapter 15

Castiel is thankful when Dean takes them the long way through the park. They both need the extra time together, before they’re faced with what? Saying goodnight? Goodbye? Is Dean’s regret that large? 

His thoughts are getting away from him and the only thing that keeps him grounded is Dean’s hand tightening in his as they get closer and closer to home. When Castiel sees the warm lights burning upstairs, it makes him want Dean to stay that much more. He has a renewed need to make Dean feel better and if Dean doesn’t want to stay, it will be him that stops them from going upstairs. 

Dean keeps his grip on Castiel’s hand as they approach the door, and still as he digs out his key to unlock it. Their steps don’t falter, but for as much bravado as he wishes he had, Castiel still slows down before they start up the stairs, just in case it’s what Dean’s waiting for and he wishes he was wrong when Dean stops them.

Castiel’s heart drops. “Dean—” 

“I can still stay, right?” Dean’s voice is rough with misuse and hesitant and Castiel’s  _ tired _ of hearing him sound so unsure of himself. 

Pulling Dean to him, Castiel kisses the hesitation right out of Dean’s mouth, tired of the space between them, tired of not finding the comfort in each other they’ve both needed since they left Fairfield and when Dean kisses him back with just as much urgency, it’s the only response Castiel needs.

“Claire’s waiting,” Castiel whispers when he pulls them apart. “I’m going to walk her to the subway, if you’d like to take a shower?” 

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good,” Dean replies, and giving Castiel one last kiss, he turns him by the hips to lead them up the staircase. 

Their welcoming party is a sight for sore eyes. When Castiel pushes the door open, an excited baby pig is trying very hard to climb and jump up both their legs, back and forth, back and forth, making a racket until Dean scoops him up into his arms and steps closer to Castiel so Pug can greet them both with a cool nose under each of their chins, his little mouth smacking as he squeals his hello. 

Kissing him on the head, Castiel leaves Pug with Dean so he can pull Claire into a hug too, her surprise clear when he lets her go. 

“Hello to you too, Uncle, did you guys have a good time?” She looks at them both hopefully. “Cool face paint.” 

It’s almost comical, the way both men reach up to touch their painted cheeks, both of them having forgotten the last lighthearted activity they enjoyed together at the party before everything went to shit. It gives him enough pause to give Claire a positive answer.

“Celebrating with the twins was wonderful, but if you’re to meet them, I’ll have to teach you some sign language.” Castiel begins to sign as he speaks. “Their Au Pair is hearing impaired so they sign more than they verbalize, don’t you think Dean?” 

Dean looks surprised when Castiel glances over to him but he recovers and nods, giving them a slight smile. “Cas can give us both lessons.” 

“I’d be happy to,” Castiel replies, verbally and with his hands and okay,  _ maybe _ he’s showing off a bit because Claire looks amazed and Dean seems to enjoy watching him sign so if he can extend this lighthearted moment even just a little, he’ll do it. 

“That’s so cool, I had no idea you knew sign language,” Claire replies as she pulls her backpack over her shoulder. “Maybe you can show me more when I get back.” 

Their flight to Italy leaves JFK at eight am tomorrow. Claire spent an entire weekend locked in her room after Jimmy told her the news and despite all her efforts to convince him to let her stay, Claire was unsuccessful. 

She wishes Dean and Pug goodbye and on the way to the subway, Claire tells Castiel what she and Pug got up to while they were gone, walking to the park and spending a few hours there, playing with Pug in the grass and wandering around campus. It sounds like they had a lovely day and part of Castiel wishes they could have joined her. 

When they reach the subway, Castiel hugs her tight as she promises to Facetime them every day she’s away and then Claire’s gone, walking down the steps he and Dean just came from, so she can catch her train uptown.

Castiel will miss her while she’s away. 

The wind is picking up as he hurries home, and all Castiel can think about is getting there, getting to Dean, and getting them settled so they can get this weird, messed up day behind them. Dean’s still in the bathroom when he returns, Pug playing in his pen in the living room, so Castiel fills his kettle, setting it to boil as he preps a cup of tea for himself, and a French press of coffee for Dean. Heading to his room, Castiel sees Dean’s duffle wide open on the bed, his flannel discarded on top of it, and Castiel’s heart skips a beat, seeing Dean’s things amongst his own. 

Rather than let his nerves get the better of him, Castiel focuses on gathering his stuff for his shower when the door to the bathroom opens, and even without turning, Castiel can feel the steam of the shower, smelling his own honey-almond body wash fill the room as Dean comes in and then strong, tan arms are wrapping themselves around his waist, Dean’s warm and still damp body pressing against his back.

Castiel doesn’t hesitate to lean into Dean’s embrace and they stand there together for a moment to breathe, until the call of the tea kettle and a loud squeal from Pug has Dean huffing and pulling away, but not before he presses a kiss to the exposed skin of Castiel’s neck. “I saved you some water.” 

“Thank you, Dean,” he replies, softly, the place Dean kissed still tingling. “I prepared our drinks, if you wouldn’t mind finishing them while I shower?” 

He can feel Dean nod. “Gotta say I appreciate the water pressure here.” 

“One of the first things I had repaired,” Castiel replies, pleased Dean noticed. The kettle whistles louder and Dean squeezes his hips before he leaves the room. Wearing too long, dark green and blue plaid pajama pants that pool over his bare feet, a black t-shirt and hair still wet from the shower, Dean takes Castiel’s breath away when he looks over his shoulder at him as he goes, his smile shy and in that instant, he’s reminded again that Dean’s staying. The thought repeats itself as Castiel showers and dresses in his own pajamas and he’s made himself nervous by the time he’s ready to rejoin Dean.

Until he opens his bedroom door, only to be met with the sight of Dean, sitting on the floor of his living room, back pressed against the couch, just so he can sit closer to where Pug is playing. Dean’s hair has dried and sits in soft, purple waves and this time, Castiel doesn’t hesitate to drop on the couch next to where he sits, just to run one hand through his hair. 

Because Dean’s staying with him tonight. He’s staying and Castiel will do whatever it takes to make him forget how today went, starting with this moment. Dean’s appreciative groan as Castiel sifts his fingers through his hair to massage his scalp tell him he’s on the right track. Dean loops a hand around Castiel’s ankle and uses the other one to pass Castiel his mug, before he settles back into the cushions, the aroma of lavender tea surrounding him and calming his nerves. He takes a sip and is pleased when he realizes that Dean prepared his cup just as Castiel likes it, with a spoonful of honey and a dash of milk. 

It takes him a moment to realize Pug and Dean are playing with a toy Castiel’s never seen before, some kind of ball wrapped in fabric with a few braided arms coming from the center. It bounces a bit when Dean tosses it and it’s small enough for Pug to grab in his mouth and jerk around until he drags it back for Dean to throw again. 

Castiel sits up as he realizes… They’re playing fetch. “Dean? When did he learn how to fetch?” 

“Just started,” Dean replies, swallowing the sip of coffee he just took. “He always wants to run with the big dogs and he loves to watch them play fetch and last week he just—took off.” Pug trots back with his toy in his mouth, only trying to keep it from Dean for a moment before he lets go to wait for Dean to toss it. He even sits and it makes Castiel grin, seeing him sitting there in his little black rainbow onesie, waiting like the good boy he is for Dean to throw his toy. Dean shows it to Castiel and Pug never takes his eyes off it. “The other one has a mini basketball wrapped up in it, but I used a tennis ball in this one.” Dean admires the toy and Castiel can’t help but be impressed. 

“You  _ made _ this for him?” It’s well constructed, sturdy, with tightly weaved fabric that won’t shred when Pug chews it with his strong teeth. Dean’s blushing when Castiel looks for confirmation. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Wasn’t a big deal,” he replies with a shrug. “Pretty easy, once you find the right fabric to use.” Tossing the toy, Pug scrambles after it, his feet coming out from under him, his enthusiasm no match for the hardwood floor. He’s slows down after this retrieval, losing interest in their game in favor of trying to climb over Dean’s lap and Dean helps him up while putting the toy in Castiel’s outstretched hand.

"You could probably sell these, do a version for cats with catnip in the middle, maybe," Castiel comments, turning the toy over to examine it. “We could do demonstrations with Pug at the market, can’t we baby, can’t we,” Castiel coos, the little pig trying to climb up Dean’s shoulder to get to Castiel. Cupping Pug with one hand, Dean puts down his mug and pushes himself up so they can join Castiel on the couch, Pug jumping over to him once Dean lets him go with a chuckle. 

Spying his toy, Pug grabs it and sits so he can gnaw on one braid while Dean grabs his coffee, and settles into the cushions, one leg propped between them, his arm slung on the back of the couch. Castiel curls on his hip to face him, Pug seeing his spot and settling between them with his prize, one braid still in Castiel’s lap. 

He fusses with the end, noticing that it’s durably stitched for heavy play. “This is very impressive,” Castiel murmurs, more distracted than anything else so he’s surprised when Dean huffs. 

“You don’t have to say that, really.” Dean’s staring down at Pug, a crease between his brow. 

Castiel frowns too. “But it is. And I do,” he says, stubbornly. “I will  _ always _ tell you when I’m impressed by your talents, Dean.” 

“Lots of better things you could be doin’ with your time, Cas.” Dean shakes his head. “Better people you could be spendin’ it with, too.” He won’t look at Castiel when he says any of this and Castiel wishes they never stepped foot out of Manhattan today. 

Taking both mugs, Castiel puts them on the coffee table so he can move closer to Dean, picking Pug up so he can sit between them. “This is the only place we want to be.” 

“But why, Cas, why me man? You don’t know how bad I could mess this up and you guys are too good for that, you know? You’re too good for me, and—” 

“Dean.” 

“No, Cas, you gotta hear this okay, you gotta know that my brother was right, I need to grow up—” 

“No.” Castiel’s heard enough. “I’m sorry Dean, but I won’t sit here and listen to you talk about yourself like this.”

Dean finally looks up at him, and his beautiful green eyes are haunted and it puts a solid lump in Castiel’s throat that he has to struggle against, just to get his next words out. 

“You’re the most astonishing man I’ve ever met and today was only spent as a reminder as to why I’m falling so quickly for you.” His confession terrifies him, but he only wants Dean to know how special he is, how important he’s become to Castiel’s small and otherwise insignificant life. “The way you live your life is admirable, Dean and you shouldn’t be made to think otherwise, by  _ anyone. _ ” 

“You shouldn't fall for me,” he whispers and that's when Castiel has to kiss those words out of his mouth. After all the negativity he received, even only that which Castiel witnessed, it's no surprise to him now why Dean was avoiding Sam's call. So Castiel kisses him, and kisses him, and hopes it takes away some of his pain and then Castiel kisses Dean some more, until Pug is tired of being smashed between them, and he squirms enough for Castiel to regretfully pull away from Dean’s plush mouth. 

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” Castiel murmurs, leaning in to press their foreheads together. 

“Is that what’ll happen every time I do?” Dean seems dazed.

“Maybe,” Castiel answers wryly, kissing those pink lips one more time before he leans back. Between them, now that he has the space, Pug curls into Dean’s lap, his little mouth still trying to chew his toy. His sleepiness is not helping him be successful and they both can’t help but smile when he yawns wide, a little squeak coming from his throat. 

More composed now, Dean strokes the little sleepy pig softly. “I'm just good at letting people down, much as I try not too, and I just don’t wanna do that here. And I don’t want you to get hurt.” Dean sounds miserable, like none of this is in their hands, like there’s no choice in the outcome because it’s just always been this way.

Castiel’s tired of feeling like that. He cups Dean’s jaw so their eyes can meet, and he strokes a thumb softly over the high rise of his cheekbone. “Then don’t hurt us,” Castiel replies. “You can decide, Dean, we can decide together, to just be good and kind to each other.” Dean’s eyes soften, some of the anguish fading. “Like you’ve always been,” he presses, hoping Dean can find in himself what Castiel’s seen all along. 

“Why are you so good to me, Cas?” Dean leans into his palm, his face a grimace, like even the thought of accepting kindness in return for all that he gives is painful. 

“Because  _ you _ are so good, Dean, and you could never let me down.” Castiel answers, never more sure of anything.

“You can’t say that—there’s too much about me you don’t know, okay?” Dean’s eyes slam shut. “And I’m just not someone who gets to keep things, Cas." The utter defeat his voice is disheartening. 

And Castiel’s had enough of it. “Dean—look at me, please.” The conversation came right back around to Dean’s self depreciation and every time he disparages himself, it makes something in the back of Castiel’s throat ache. “Can we just try? You’re right that I can’t predict the future but I’d like the chance for us to try.” He puts a hand over Dean’s that’s still petting Pug, the piglet asleep now thanks to Dean’s gentleness, and Castiel hopes Dean knows he means all three of them. 

Their eyes meet and Dean’s are filled with hesitancy but also what might be hope as he nods his assent and that’s all Castiel needs, to see his own desires for them reflected in Dean’s beautiful emerald eyes. He’s so disarmed by them, Castiel can’t help but lean in and kiss him, his own eyes only closing after he watches Dean’s flutter shut. Sliding one hand through Dean’s soft hair, Castiel deepens their kiss, wanting Dean to know he doesn’t  _ need  _ to hear his reassurances, that Castiel understands even if Dean can’t say the words out loud. 

Eventually, Dean’s shifting hips cause Pug to snore in his sleep and they break apart with soft smiles against each other’s mouths and Dean sighs, his breath warm against Castiel’s tingling lips. “Can I put little man to bed?” 

“Please,” Castiel replies. “I’ll clean up, unless you’d like another cup?” 

“Nah,” Dean replies, scooping Pug out of his lap as they both stand. The little pig doesn’t even flinch when Castiel kisses the top of his head to wish him goodnight. 

“Don’t forget his heating pad,” Castiel reminds Dean’s back, getting a raised hand in return.

“Yeah, yeah dad, we know, don’t we, buddy,” Dean’s murmuring to Pug as they leave the room and it makes Castiel warm, puts speed in his steps as he scoops up their cups to leave them in the sink, the floor cold under his feet when he locks the door and turns the lights off and by the time he’s done, Dean’s closing the door to Pug’s room, a soft click the only sound, their feet silent as Castiel takes Dean’s hand to bring him into his bedroom. 

It’s not much. Castiel’s never been one to decorate beyond his bookshelves and with all the other places he has them, his room is without one. Instead, it’s sparse, his queen bed on a simple black metal frame, a tall black dresser in one corner to match. More of his plants sit on top and his favorite vine he’s been growing for two years sits by the window for the best light, it’s long tendrils starting to spill over the edge, one almost reaching the floor. 

The bed is turned down, Castiel’s navy blue sheets soft and inviting. When he came in after his shower, Castiel moved Dean’s duffle to the sitting chair he keeps in one corner and turned on the bedside lamps and now the room is warm with yellow light and shadow and when Castiel turns back to Dean, he looks beautiful in it. 

Even more so when a slow smile grows on his face. “I like your room, did I tell you?” He takes a step closer and slides his hand up Castiel’s arm. “Seems cozy.” The tip of Dean’s nose dragged across his cheek makes a shiver zip down Castiel’s spine. 

His breathing quickens and he works his jaw when Dean flutters soft kisses across it. “The sheets are very soft.” Castiel means every innuendo behind that statement and he swallows thickly. 

“That so?” Dean’s voice drops to a growl and he smiles against Castiel’s throat. “Why don’t you show me then, Cas?” 

Accepting his challenge, Castiel swallows Dean’s groan when he kisses him and closes the distance between them and the bed, spinning Dean around with a few clumsy steps that has him laughing, breathy and delighted as he falls back into the aforementioned soft sheets, Castiel raising his eyebrows as if to say  _ I told you so. _

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean huffs, wrapping his fingers around Castiel’s wrist and tugging, pulling him down on top of him, Castiel placing a steady hand next to Dean’s head. Letting go of Castiel’s wrist, Dean opens his hand so Castiel can hold it as Castiel leans in to kiss away his snark, running the tip of his tongue along the seam of Dean’s sweet lips that are tilted into a grin. Dean’s snuggling into the sheets under him and when Castiel shifts his hips and uses his weight to still him, Dean’s breath hitches just enough so Castiel can dip his tongue inside of Dean’s mouth to taste him. 

Castiel’s found he only enjoys the flavor of coffee when he’s tasting it from Dean’s mouth. 

Every inch of them that’s pressed together burns hot, and Castiel doesn’t resist when Dean yanks at the back of his shirt, and he only growls a little when he has to stop kissing him so Dean can pull it off of him. Dean huffs into Castiel’s hair as Castiel dips down to taste the softness around his collar bones, Dean's fingers skittering over Castiel's bare shoulders. 

Fed up by the fabric still between them, Castiel pushes at Dean’s shirt as he explores, intent to get to more of Dean’s velvety skin. In all their time together, they’ve fooled around some, in the dark with wandering hands and pressing hips, both of them happy to spend most of their time kissing. So much kissing that Dean’s mouth is now one Castiel is intimately familiar with. But the opportunity to strip him bare tonight is almost overwhelming and Castiel’s heart races as he slides his fingers under Dean’s shirt, leaving his thumb and forefinger free to push Dean’s shirt up, but most importantly, off. 

"Wait." Dean’s fingers curl around Castiel’s wrist to still him. 

Pulling his face from the curve of Dean’s neck, Castiel sways at the sudden shift in momentum. “What is it, what happened?” 

Dean’s biting his lip and tugging at the hem of his t-shirt and Castiel’s confused as he removes his hand. 

“Did you want to leave your shirt on?” If Dean isn’t comfortable, Castiel doesn’t want to push him. “It’s okay if you do.” 

Dean looks surprised and he stops fussing. “Really?” 

“Really,” Castiel says, dipping down to kiss that uncertainty away. “I want to taste every inch of you, Dean, but more importantly, I want you to be comfortable, consent being so  _ hot _ and all.” 

Softening, Dean leans up to return Castiel’s kiss before he takes a deep breath, and pulls his shirt up. 

Castiel’s eyes widen as the disappearing shirt reveals a large tattoo, inked into the spanse of tan skin over Dean's right hip. It looks to be the front end a muscle car, all the lines dark and sharp and it takes Castiel’s breath away. “May I?” He wants to touch and his intrigue grows when Dean hesitates before he grabs Castiel’s hand so  _ he _ can press Castiel’s fingers to his stomach, the tattoo exposed by Dean’s low waistband. 

Dean guides his fingers over a slightly raised line and as his fingertips drag over it, Castiel realizes that the tattoo is hiding a long scar under its gorgeous design. Letting go of Castiel’s fingers, Dean hesitates before realizing Castiel isn’t going to flinch away from him and only then does Dean arch his back and wiggle the rest of the way out of his shirt. 

He’s incredible. With his wide shoulders and tan skin, Dean looks gorgeous in Castiel's bed, his blush spread to his chest which Castiel finds covered in freckles and this is what it must mean to feel like Christmas came early. Dean’s broad chest tapers down to a slim waist and the tattoo is a beautiful work of art and skill and Castiel honestly had no idea he'd be so turned on by something like this. 

Swallowing back his desire, Castiel licks his lips. "Do you want to put your shirt back on, now that you've shown me?" He prays the answer is no and feels nothing but relief when Dean shakes his head. 

"I'm glad," Castiel breathes out, dragging his hand across Dean's belly, still in awe of him. "I want you to know that it doesn’t bother me, not in the slightest." 

Dean stiffens. "It might bother you when you know how I got it."

Shaking his head, Castiel runs fingers over the raised scar with as much reverence as he can, knowing one thing to be true. "Whatever it is, it brought you to me. How can I scorn anything that led us together like this?"

"You really believe that, Cas?"

Tearing his eyes off the dark lines of the tattoo, Castiel blinks up at Dean, surprised. “You make me believe anything is possible, Dean.” He doesn’t miss the lovely blush that paints Dean’s cheeks when he drops back down to continue mapping out the expanse of Dean’s body with his tongue. "And I find you— _ all _ of you," he stresses, "incredibly sexy." 

Dipping his tongue into Dean's belly button elicits a sultry moan from above him, and after that, there’s no more hesitancy, no more uncertainty as Castiel continues to strip Dean, much to both their pleasures. Pajama pants slide down hips to pool at the end of the bed, white boxers and black boxer briefs falling to the floor, slow hands and even slower mouths finding solace in the soft curves and the hard lines of each other’s bodies until they pick up on already familiar rhythms, until they’re both gasping each other’s names on the end of breathy moans. 

The beautiful chorus of sounds Dean makes when he comes is something Castiel wants to make him do over and over. He will never tire of making Dean sing like this. When Castiel follows, he chokes on Dean’s name and kisses him and gives Dean all his ecstasy. He hopes Dean can feel his bliss, of being held in Dean’s embrace, with Dean’s legs wrapped around him. The air between them is charged and Castiel slides his lips through the sweat gathered on Dean’s brow, kissing away the saltiness that he helped put there while Dean sucks marks into his throat, marking Castiel, making Castiel his. 

He already was, but Castiel will accept any marking Dean leaves him with. He will wear each one proudly. 

Kissing his way to Dean’s mouth, he finds him with a lazy, sated grin. Castiel returns it, he can’t help it. “What? Was that okay?” 

Dean leans up to kiss Castiel on his chin. “More than okay, Cas.” Another kiss. “Way more.” 

Leaning down to hide his blush, Castiel brushes his lips across Dean’s ear. “Good,” he whispers. “I’ll clean us up, if there’s anything you need?” 

Arms slip around his naked waist. “Just you, just like this.” Dean shifts and grimaces. “Less sticky though, please.” 

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel replies, pulling them apart from each other and cursing the distance almost instantly. “I’ll be quick.” 

He makes fast work of wiping them down and disposing of their trash, wet wipes, condom wrapper, and that annoying seal on the lube that held Castiel up for a few precious seconds he could have been using to kiss Dean instead. It’s satisfying to throw it away. 

A quick check on a sleeping pig and a stop in the kitchen has Castiel noticing that the wind has picked up, the branches whipping outside his window and it makes him curious about something. 

Dean’s sitting up in bed, navy blue sheets pooled around his waist, and he looks up from his phone when Castiel enters. In his absence, Dean must have gotten into his bag as his phone and charger are out, along with a few more items on the bedside table closest to him. 

If Castiel thought Dean’s  _ stuff _ looked good in his room, well, he wasn’t at all prepared to see Dean sitting there like it’s where he belongs. It almost distracts him enough to forget what he meant to ask.

“Does the farmers market cancel for weather?” He passes Dean the glass of water he brought him.

“Thanks,” he says, soft as he accepts the drink and furrows his brow. “If it’s raining or snowing, we can’t sit out there. Garth doesn’t set up but one tent to deliver his weekly orders, but staying home’s usually the default. We had to pack up quick after some weird wind came through once, but that’s the only time I can think.” 

Setting down his own glass, Castiel pushes the curtains open, mindful of his vine, to show Dean what seems to be an impending storm.

“Yeah, Ash just hit the group chat about it. I should add you to this,” he mumbles, scowling back down at his phone. “He said he’ll hit us up again in the morning, see what the rest of the village is sayin’.” Dean shuts the screen off on his phone, takes a swig of his water, and puts both on the nightstand, snuggling back down into Castiel’s blankets, arms propped behind his head. He raises an eyebrow, looking Castiel up and down as Castiel sips his water. “Did you forget that you’re naked?”

“Oh.” Glancing down, Castiel remembers his nudity. “My apologies, Dean, does it bother you?” He climbs into bed, slipping between the sheets and pulling them up to cover himself. “There. Considering I was recently inside you, I had assumed—” 

A hand over his mouth cuts Castiel off. “Okay, settle down, settle down.” Castiel grins against Dean’s palm as he slips it off. “I wasn’t complainin’” he murmurs, his hand going around the back of Castiel’s head and into his hair to bring their mouths together for a long, slow kiss that leaves them both warm. 

They turn off their lamps and snuggle into each other, Dean slipping his knee between Castiel’s so he can tangle their legs together, one of his feet rubbing against one of Castiel’s. It feels so good to have Dean in his arms, and Castiel holds him tighter as Dean attempts to press them as close together as possible. He’s silent long enough for Castiel to consider that he’s fallen asleep, the only sound coming from the wind blowing through the trees outside and he settles, wanting to make sure Dean was content before he relaxed completely. 

Castiel certainly isn’t expecting to hear Dean’s hushed voice in the darkness, let alone his confession.

“You know I'm crazy about you, Cas.” Dean says it in a way that brooks no argument. “And I'm gonna do everything I can to do right by you,” he buries his face in the curve of Castiel’s neck and his next words are almost lost. “I swear.”

Castiel knows Dean must be able to hear his heart pounding in his chest but he says what he means anyway because Dean deserves to hear a real truth, one that Castiel can gain nothing from, one that won’t diminish Dean in any way. Tucking two fingers under Dean’s chin, he tilts his face up to brush their lips together. “I trust you, and I believe in you, Dean.” 

The way his green eyes glow in the moonlight, the shadows from wind-blown leaves dancing over his face just prove how Dean can shine from the inside out, how bright and beautiful his soul is. Castiel doesn’t need to see his blush to recognize the way Dean’s eye crinkles deepen because of Castiel’s honesty before he’s settling back into the curve of Castiel’s neck.

“Sap,” he mutters, once he’s comfortable and try as Dean might to hide it, Castiel can feel his pleased smile against his collar bones. Castiel slips a hand into Dean’s soft hair and loves the way it makes his palm tingle, another simple pleasure Castiel’s found in him. He’s smiling when he kisses Dean’s forehead, Dean's sigh sounding happy before a few stray kisses land on Castiel’s bare chest.

The birthday party seems ages away as they both drift to sleep, Castiel just wanting to close his eyes and open them to the morning, excited as he is to wake up with Dean in his arms. Nothing else seems to matter, not when they’re here, wrapped around each other and sharing the night. 

Not long after both men are asleep, the rain starts. Some time before dawn, Castiel woke with Dean spooned in his arms and Dean holding his hand tightly against his chest. Castiel might have even considered it a dream, if Dean wasn’t so warm and didn’t smell so good. The soft sigh he gave when Castiel kissed the back of his neck made it all that more real. 

He’s rolled over in his sleep when the sound of rain on the roof wakes Castiel again and for a second, he forgets that he isn’t supposed to be alone in bed. Dean’s gone. Sitting up, Castiel calms considerably when he sees that Dean’s duffle is still in the corner, only him and his phone missing from the room. His slight panic doesn’t fade until he turns back over to see a post-it stuck to the front of his clock -  _ Took Pug for his walk, brb.  _

The storm has made the house dark and as Castiel pulls on sleep pants he imagines the time Dean must be having, getting Pug to do his business in the rain. The way it’s coming down, Castiel imagines they’ll both need a bath when they return. He’s mixing the batter for the waffles he’s making for breakfast when footsteps on the staircase have Castiel already looking towards the door when Dean opens it. 

Pug runs in first, dry as a bone, and he hustles towards the kitchen when he sees Castiel, his little tail flipping. He’s a warm bundle when Castiel scoops him into his arms, looking towards the door which Dean hasn’t come through yet. 

“Dean?” Castiel calls for him, not sure what’s taking him so long to come inside. 

Dean—wearing an old University of Washington hat of Castiel’s to protect his hair—pokes his head into the doorway before he steps into it. Castiel has to fight back a grin because Dean’s dripping wet and, much to his amusement, is wearing Castiel’s trench coat and looking a little sheepish about it. 

Castiel tickles Pug’s chin and raises an eyebrow at Dean. “I have a laundry room, you know.”

Eyes lighting up, Dean pulls off the hat, his mauve hair flattened by it. “Just point me in the right direction.” 

“It’s in the basement.” He makes a spinning motion with his finger to indicate Dean needs to turn and go back the way he came. “The second door past the store bathroom.” 

“Oh, cool! I was wondering where that door went,” he answers. “Be right back.” Gorgeous smile on his face, Dean closes the door as he turns to go back downstairs. 

Castiel lifts the tiny pig in his arms up to kiss his nose. “How is he so cute, huh? It’s just not fair to everyone else.” Pug pushes his nose into Castiel’s cheek. “Sucks for them, huh? Not for us though, no, we get to give him kisses whenever we want, don’t we?” 

Pug’s breakfast is an easy fix, the little pig all wiggles as Castiel feeds him bits of sweet potato until he sets him and his bowl down to eat. Castiel’s filling his kettle when he hears Dean’s steps again. He’s surprised to see two to-go cups in Dean’s hands when he enters and Castiel leans over to shut off the sink, apparently no longer in need. 

“Donna says good morning,” Dean says, padding across the floor, his feet bare. He must have left his wet boots downstairs. “Stopped by for our drinks, half the market was in there,” he chuckles. “They tried to rope me into their nonsense but little dude saved me, had him tucked into your coat to keep dry.” He smells like summer rain and fresh air when he wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist, joining him at the counter. He won’t let go of Castiel’s cup of tea until he receives a kiss which Castiel gladly gives him. 

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel takes a sip of his tea, enjoying the warmth.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean replies, as he grins back. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” 

“I’m making us waffles,” Castiel announces proudly. He went to the store the day before yesterday to get everything he would need to cook Dean one of his favorite breakfast foods. 

Dean pumps his fist in victory and kisses Castiel with a smile. “You are the best.” More kisses pepper his hot cheeks until Castiel gives Dean a little push, making Dean laugh. 

“You like your tea? Jasmine, according to Donna.” He shrugs before he pulls away to take plates and utensils out for them. “Smelled good anyway.” 

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “It tastes very good. Would you care to try some?” He holds the cup up to Dean, who wrinkles his cute nose.

“You know me and the leaf juice don’t mix, babe.” Taking the cup, Dean sips from it anyway and makes a considerable face. “Okay, this one isn’t awful, kinda sweet.” He still doesn’t hesitate to give it back before taking a very exaggerated and extra long drink of his coffee, which he swallows with a satisfied  _ ahh _ for good measure. “Now—how can I help?”

Together, they cook breakfast and by the time they’re done, Pug is down for his morning nap and they eat back in bed, unable to resist the left over, fresh whipped cream Castiel made, Dean promising to wash the sheets if he can just get creative with the rest and if Castiel’s being honest, he never knew having whipped cream licked off his thighs would feel so damn good. 

He’s also never had his body worshipped like Dean does, whispering praise and lavishing attention on places of himself Castiel doesn’t think about, like the dip of his hip bones, or the smattering of hair across his chest. He’s always been self conscious of it but Dean spends considerable time dragging his tongue and the tip of his nose through it, chased by kisses across his collarbone and the length of his neck and it makes Castiel forget to worry about anything.

“So goddamn sexy, Cas, taste so good,” Dean confesses between kisses and bites to Castiel’s skin and Castiel’s drowning in Dean’s attention, feeling like the center of his universe, like he’s actually glowing when Dean sinks down around him, their bodies coming together, Castiel surging up to taste Dean’s lips as he settles in his lap, legs wrapped around Castiel’s hips as he moves, Castiel’s arms wrapping around his waist so they can be as close as possible. 

Castiel swears the first clap of thunder hits at the same moment they come together and he wouldn’t be at all surprised to know that they were able to shake heaven and earth with their intensity. It also knocks out the power to the building, a pop that fries the bulbs in the bedside lamps. They catch their breath together in the dark, both of them trying to come back to reality. 

When they do, Dean thinks it’s all hilarious until Castiel hands him a flashlight and tells him that the spare light bulbs are down in the dark basement. His pout eases a little when Castiel hands him a hoodie from his closet while he pulls on Castiel’s sleep pants, probably by accident. 

Castiel uses the light on his phone to get out all his spare candles. City blackouts are common, at least around the village where the buildings are pre war and they do the best they can with the grid being as old as it is. Everyone keeps candles handy, or safety lamps, which Castiel’s been meaning to buy. They can just open the shades to take in as much light as the day will give and a few strategically placed candles will do the rest. 

He’s lighting the last one in the living room when Dean returns with the bulbs. Grumbling about how cold the basement gets, he goes to the room to replace them and clean up while Castiel checks on Pug, knowing they’ve got another hour of peace until the little pig will wake and be in demand of his usual playtime. They would be going out to set up their table, but since it’s raining, they’ll have to get creative about wearing him out. 

Until then, both are content to lay back down into the soft sheets, Dean settling in, head against Castiel’s chest, legs tangled. Castiel slips his fingers into Dean’s hair to play with the soft locks as he listens to the sound of the rain against the roof mixed with Dean’s soft breathing. The flame from the candles he lit and placed on the dresser make shadows dance across the ceiling and Castiel sighs, the most content he’s ever been. 

Dean tilts his head to peer up at him and the light plays amongst his freckles. He says nothing and neither does Castiel, content to get lost in pools of green moss, delighted to spend his time there, cataloguing each freckle on Dean’s eyelids. Breaking their staring contest, Dean kisses his jaw before tucking his head back down. 

“Thank you,” Castiel murmurs, wanting Dean to know he’s grateful for him. 

“For the kiss?” Dean chuckles. “You can get those for free anytime, you just say the word.” 

Castiel huffs and bites back his grin. “No—well,  _ yes _ , I suppose—but I  _ meant _ , thank you for everything you did this morning. You didn’t have to brave the rain, you could have woke me up—” 

Dean cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Nah, that’s fine, I’m an early riser. Just need my four hours and—” 

“Yes, but, you didn’t  _ have _ to do that,” Castiel interrupts him right back. “Your thoughtfulness is something I admire and honestly, it’s very attractive.”

Dean scoffs. “Now you’re just talking about my nice ass.” 

“It  _ is _ quite nice,” Castiel agrees. “But you know I mean more than that.” 

Dean’s quiet. Castiel continues to sift his fingers through Dean’s hair while he finds his response.

“Wasn’t always this way,” he finally says, quiet, his voice smaller than Castiel likes. He doesn’t stop his movements and Dean goes on. “Probably wouldn’t think so highly of the guy I used to be.” 

Castiel considers this. “Does this have anything to do with your scar?” It’s been weighing on his mind. He was truthful when he told Dean it doesn’t bother him because it  _ doesn’t _ but Castiel is curious about the story behind it and how the tattoo is tied up in it all because if he’s learned anything about Dean, it’s that he does most things with purpose and permanently marking his body to hide something he’s ashamed of wouldn’t be a decision Dean made lightly.

Dean’s sigh is heavy. “I said you wouldn’t like it, remember?” 

How could Castiel forget? “And I said it didn’t matter.” 

His silence returns and Castiel waits. 

The flatness that comes with Dean’s words when he speaks again is unsettling. “When I was twenty-two, I was in a real bad car accident with my dad.” 

Castiel’s hand stills. “Sam wasn’t—” 

“It was the night Sam left.” Dean pauses and clears his throat. “For Stanford.” He draws in a shaky breath and refuses to look at Castiel. “I dunno, Dad was mad about it and I just remember feeling pissed off and just—betrayed, you know?”

When Dean told him about his brother leaving for school, he highlighted his pride in Sam’s accomplishments rather than the way he left with virtually no warning to him or their father. Instead, he announced at breakfast one morning that he had been accepted and that his flight left at noon. Dean said he drove him to the airport and that was that. Castiel knew it wasn’t that simple.

“We had a huge fight. He didn’t even tell me he was applying, Cas,  _ me. _ I’m the big brother, I did everything for that kid, protected him from so much of our dad’s shit—shit he didn’t even  _ know _ about and he was accusing me of being just like that fucking bastard and that was why he kept quiet. Said he knew I’d be just as mad.” 

Castiel can only tighten his hold on Dean as his frustration builds. 

“My dad was an evil son of a bitch when he drank and that was  _ all _ he did. Sam had no clue,” he whispers, stricken by his own words. “I kept all that shit from him, took all dad’s insults and his drunken ass kickings—fuck, it was no wonder I drank just as much as he did sometimes. Just thought I was hiding it better from the kid.” Dean huffs. “Didn’t say a word to me the whole way to the airport and you wanna know the last thing he said to me when he got out?”

Castiel almost doesn’t. 

“He told me if I wasn’t careful, I was gonna end up just like dad.” His heartbreak is clear in every word Dean says. “Hated to prove him right, but I drove straight back to the bar dad liked and got drunk while he told me it was all my fault. My fault Sammy left, my fault Sam hated us, hell eventually, he was even blaming me for my mom’s death but that was his usual bullshit after a few too many.”

Dean swipes angrily at his face as Castiel fights back his own rage and heart ache, knowing this story is only going to get worse. His voice drops. “He got us kicked out, got too loud, wanted to fight everyone, mostly me—his same old sad shit. I remember hauling him out before they called the cops, but not much after that. When I woke up, my car was upside down and we were in the woods. Dad rolled us down a fifty foot embankment.” 

Castiel draws in a sharp breath. “Was anyone else—” 

“No, they called it a single car MVA.” Dean rolls back to bare his stomach, the sheets falling away. “Destroyed my Baby, the bastard.” He sounds the most sad about this. During one of their nights together discussing their past, he told Castiel a lovely story about the Sixty-seven Chevy Impala his dad bought before he married his mom, the car that felt like home after they lost her. His dad had signed it over to him for his eighteenth birthday, although Dean had mentioned how that coincided with his dad losing his drivers license because of his drinking. Castiel had no idea what she looked like until now. 

He reaches out to trace the inked lines of the car’s fender that stretches across Dean’s stomach and his fingers move over the scar. 

“They ended up airlifting us both, but I only had a mild concussion, needed a few stitches on my chin.” He reaches up to brush his fingers against the tiny scar there. “Woulda walked out of the hospital the next day, except my dad—he was pretty messed up.” Dean’s hand goes over Castiel’s where he’s still touching the scar. “Wouldn’t have lived through the night if I didn’t give him one of my kidneys.” 


	16. Chapter 16

To say Castiel is surprised is an understatement. “You gave your father one of your kidneys?” 

“Yeah.” Dean sounds miserable about it. “Middle of nowhere bumfuck doctor botched my shit up, gave me this long ugly scar which ended up infected. I don’t remember much of that, got pretty sick, sick enough to get to a bigger hospital in Chicago and after that, Bobby came’n got me.” 

It’s still pouring rain as Dean tells Castiel what happened to him after that, how his dad disappeared, never once showing up at the hospital to see him. After the accident, it was Bobby that brought Dean to New York to start over, to get clean and get right, as he puts it. 

“Once I healed up, Bobby put me to work doing all kinds of shit for him but I was still pretty messed up, still drinking a lot.” He rolls back into Castiel’s embrace and Castiel holds him there, let’s him rest between the exposition of his life, the worst parts of it spilling between them at the risk of marring Castiel’s perfect vision of him. What Dean doesn’t know is that all he’s making Castiel do is admire and want him more for being so strong and surviving so much and still coming out the person Castiel knows. 

“Took a couple years to get me into AA. That’s where I met Cassie.” 

“Ah, there’s always a girl,” Castiel smiles into Dean’s hair. He should probably feel jealous at the fondness in Dean’s voice at the mention of this woman, whoever she is, but Castiel doesn’t. He’s more eager to learn more about someone Dean finds worthy of mentioning. 

But Dean shakes his head a little and props his chin on Castiel’s chest so he can look at him. “Wasn’t like that, she was my sponsor.” His expression softens, until a familiar noise has them both scrambling up, Pug’s squeals and snorts from the living room alerting them that his nap is over, and that their conversation will have to be put on hold for now.

Plus, Castiel doesn’t think a break from their heavy conversation could hurt.

Dean rolls out of bed first. “Does he need to go out again?” He pauses as he reaches for clothes. “Otherwise I can just bring him in here?” 

“Or we can join  _ him _ , he might like that more.” Castiel follows, putting his feet down on the cold floor. The storm hasn’t let up in the slightest. Glancing at his alarm clock (Dean’s post it stuck to the table next to it), Castiel shakes his head. “He shouldn’t need a walk for a bit, but he’ll tell us if he does.” 

A pair of sleep pants hit him in the back of the head. Narrowing his eyes, he turns himself back towards Dean, only to see him already tugging pants up and over his perfect, round ass and leaving the room, and Castiel looks at his now empty bed, already missing him in it. 

Pulling on pants that aren’t his, he follows Dean out of the room but goes straight for the kitchen, deciding they need hot chocolate. He also heats a few more waffles and grabs the bowl of leftover fruit for all of them to snack on. Luckily, the power came back while they were talking.

Music starts from over by the couch, Dean putting in a tape of familiar songs, Freddy Mercury singing about a Killer Queen, one of Castiel’s favorite songs on his tape. Dean keeps the volume low when he sits on the floor with a very excited to see him Pug, who is giving Dean a hard time for once about putting on a clean onesie. He’s just too excited, trying to give Dean his wet kisses. 

“It would go faster if you cuddle him first, let him do his thing.” 

Dean huffs. “Would have been helpful this morning when it took us ten minutes to get out the door.” 

“How did I sleep through that?” 

Dean gives him a lewd grin, but it’s the bounce of his eyebrow that has Castiel’s mouth twitching as much as it has him rolling his eyes as he settles on the couch, putting their second tray of breakfast next to him. Pug pauses only seconds to sniff the air before he’s busy trying to get his nose under Dean’s arm. 

“Okay my dude, come here then.” Resigning, Dean pulls Pug up to his chest as he scoots across the floor to settle between Castiel’s open legs, his back against the couch. Castiel has to struggle to sit up when Dean tips his head back, smile still on his face. 

Castiel can’t help but lean over to kiss him. He shouldn’t be expected to even try to resist but all he gets for it is a wet nose shoved between them, breaking them apart. He frowns at the little terror responsible. 

Chocolate brown eyes blink back at him, wide,  _ seemingly _ innocent for only a moment before he’s jumping up to get to Castiel, not caring that it’s Dean’s shoulders he’s using for leverage. 

“Oh, I see how it is, fine.” Dean tosses Pug’s clothes up to Castiel before twisting away to save their food. “Good luck, buddy.” 

Squeezing Dean with his thighs emits a chuckle from him and then Pug demands all of Castiel’s attention, wanting more cuddles before he settles enough to be dressed. Today’s shirt is purple with tiny hands making tiny peace signs in shiny metallic fiber because if it’s not flashy, it’s not for Pug. He smooths the fabric over the pig’s back fondly before Pug is trying to get back to Dean, now that he’s noticed Dean’s eating. 

They settle in, Pug sitting in the vee of Dean’s crossed legs, Castiel accepting his cocoa when Dean passes it back, sipping the warm chocolaty drink, savoring it. Savoring the moment. The low hum of rock music mixed with the sound of the storm is insignificant compared to the comforting rhythm they’ve found in each other, Dean nodding along to the music while Castiel accepts the pieces of food he offers, squares of waffle speared on the fork with a ripe blueberry, or a slice of sweet strawberry, a dollop of whipped cream balanced on top, all of it held over his shoulder. The perfect bite, as Dean calls it. 

Castiel only considers it perfect when Dean’s feeding it to him.

When Dean’s busy offering Pug pieces of fruit, Castiel runs fingers through his hair, flipping a few of the longer pieces around, seeing some of Dean’s natural, darker color at his roots. It’s easy to get lost in thought as they sit in their comfortable silence and Castiel opens his mouth without thinking too hard about what comes out.

“Will you tell me about Cassie?” 

Dean stiffens. 

“If you’re comfortable,” he goes on, careful. Castiel doesn’t stop playing with Dean’s hair as he waits for an answer. 

Dean’s wary when he tips his head back to look at Castiel. “You sure you wanna hear about all this crap, Cas? You don’t have to, you know.” 

“Would it surprise you to learn that I want to know  _ everything _ about you?” 

The way his eyes widen makes Castiel think it  _ does _ surprise Dean to know that someone is interested in him, in his story. Dean’s studying Castiel when one song ends and the drawn out first lyric of  _ Somebody to Love _ begins and Dean’s face changes as he hears it, any uncertainty gone as he huffs and shakes his head. 

Castiel lays a hand on his shoulder. “What?” 

“Sometimes I just gotta shut up and listen to the universe, that’s all.” He gestures towards their near empty tray. “You done? I think we’re done.” Pug’s made it out of Dean’s lap and over to his bed, already rooting in his blankets. 

“I’m finished, thank you.” Castiel passes his mug back to Dean and sits up straight as Dean accepts it and clambers to all fours so he can roll onto the couch. Huffing a laugh, Castiel scoots over to give him room to lay out, Dean’s head settling in his lap. He loves this position. From here, Dean can reach Pug and Castiel can keep his hands on him, one in his hair, the other holding one of Dean’s own. Well, usually Dean’s tracing patterns in Castiel’s palm as they talk but regardless, it’s Castiel’s favorite way to share the couch with Dean. 

Plus, it’s very easy to lean down and kiss him in this position. Castiel does it now, intent to get the flush back into his cheeks. Once he’s satisfied, he leans back as Dean makes himself comfortable. Castiel doesn’t mind the kisses Dean presses to his bare stomach either, or the way he nuzzles him with his nose. He’d almost forgotten how nice it feels to be so intimately comfortable with another person. 

His face is still turned into Castiel’s stomach when Dean begins to talk. “I told you before, I wasn’t someone you would have liked, back then. After the accident and the way dad disappeared—I was really unhappy. Admitting that is still hard but I know that’s what it was, looking back.” 

“Why couldn’t you before?”

“I was too damn cocky for my own good.” Dean laughs bitterly. “Thought I knew it all and I was pissed off enough at the world to pretend I didn’t give a shit. Hurt people before they could hurt me and acted like everyone expected me to.” His breathing has grown shallow, and Castiel laces their fingers together to bring him some comfort. “I hated myself, hated my life and I thought it was what I deserved, you know?” 

Dean squeezes his hand hard and Castiel keeps his steady. He strokes the shell of Dean’s ear with the other as his heart breaks all over again.

“Long story short, Sam came to New York, to check out the law school. We were barely talking again and he wanted to surprise me.” Dean sighs, heavy with regret. “He came to The Roadhouse and I was—he said I was drunk and—and fighting in the alley when he showed up.” 

Castiel winces and Dean buries his face in shame. “I don’t even remember that night, Cas,” he whispers, his confession almost lost in his remorse. “Bobby gave me an ultimatum after that. Get my ass in AA or get the fuck out.” 

It wasn’t long after they started dating that Dean explained his living situation, space rented above The Roadhouse, the whole building owned by Bobby (amongst many around the city). He shares a sectioned off loft with Ash and Jo and has since he moved here and according to Dean, he loves their living arrangements, most of the time. Plus Bobby charges him more in labor hours than he does rent but Dean’s always happy to help him when he calls for it. 

“He’s done so much for me, you know, more than my son of a bitch dad ever did. Taught me how to throw a fastball, the old coot.” He softens. “Helped me get clean, helped me get my GED and after Sam stayed in California for law school, we went to our first AA meeting together.”

Castiel’s brow goes up in surprise. “Really?” Now Castiel knows where Dean got his nobility. 

He nods as best as he can. “He met his sponsor that night, another old cuss named Rufus, and I met Cassie a week in. Her shirt had a picture of Freddy on it.” 

Even Castiel knows enough to know that was an instant connection. 

Dean tells Castiel that Cassie was a student at NYU, a journalism major and for reasons that are her own, she was in the program, and sober for going on five years when she came into Dean’s life. 

“She just… listened to me. Can’t think of anyone who just wanted to listen to me talk, until then, anyway.” Dean happens a glance up at Castiel before his eyes dart back down. “She helped me work the program, helped me open my eyes to how fucking awful dad was to me, how unfair it was for him to make me a parent to Sam, and not a brother.” He’s almost choking on his bitterness. “Sam wasn’t—he didn’t want to talk after what happened, he was pretty pissed. Still didn’t talk much again until he moved here to work for the D.A.’s office, few years back. He knew I was sober but, well, you saw him.”

Castiel’s mood sours at the reminder of Sam’s callousness, offering Dean alcohol the moment they arrived. 

“He never liked anything about my life after I got sober, but he stayed out of it. It was easier when he lived in California. But Cassie got me past all that, got me to see I didn’t have to be something for someone else, especially people who didn’t care all that much. She helped me find my way through the worst parts of my sobriety.”

He listens as Dean talks about their time together, that she encouraged him to try paint versus the pencil sketches he was doing until then, drawings hidden in the dark under his pillow. Dean laughs when he recalls Cassie teaching him how to ride a bike in Central Park, only for him now to be one of the best riders Castiel’s ever witnessed. She was even the first person to encourage him to color his hair after he expressed how much he always liked it. 

“Tried to go blue and wrecked my hair so bad, Cassie had to shave my head.” 

“It sounds like you two were very close.” At first it was easy not to feel jealous of this mythical person but the more Dean shares, the more Castiel feels green around the edges, envious of how incredible it must have been for her to have a front-row seat to witness Dean transform into the beautiful soul he is today. 

The one laying in Castiel’s lap, with Castiel’s fingers in his purple hair. His jealousy fades. 

“We were. Never had someone like that in my life, who made time for me and cared about me like she did, just because she wanted to, not because I owed her.” 

Castiel’s beginning to feel a kinship with this woman. 

“Wasn’t even that bad when she left, after graduation. Got a big fancy job with the BBC or some shit. She sends me cool stuff from her travels, lots of jewelry, music. Never leaves a forwarding address though.” Dean sounds sad about that as he rolls his head back to look up at Castiel full on. “Guess it’s better, right? People always leave.” 

Dean watches as Castiel considers his words. He’s not wrong, but maybe it doesn’t always have to end bad.

He can only tell Dean as much. “People can come back. Sometimes they stay.” He brushes the hair off Dean’s forehead. “I did.” 

“Washington wasn’t blowin’ the air up your skirt?” 

Castiel frowns. “It wasn’t terrible...” he drags out his answer, studying Dean’s gorgeous green eyes and the way they seem to be able to take Castiel apart and even put him back together when he’s feeling out of sorts. He finds all kinds of salvation in the man resting in his lap and Castiel wants him to know. “It certainly wasn’t anything close to what my life is like now, with you in it. You’re very special to me, Dean.” He says the last part quietly, not wanting to make a big deal of such a thing, because Dean does what he’s doing now, turning a lovely shade of pink _ . _

Castiel just takes it for what he knows it to be, and leans down so he can kiss Dean, and understand that Dean’s returned affection for him comes when Dean’s hand slips into Castiel’s hair and when he sighs Castiel’s name against his lips as they pull apart. 

They catch their breath, and Dean closes his eyes to the fluttering kisses Castiel leaves across his forehead before he sits back up. 

Dean’s the first one of them to speak again and his question is more curious than anything. “Why did you go so far? When you left.” 

“I always say it was because Washington had the best school for library science but the truth is, I entered as a creative writing major.” Castiel’s never told a soul this information, and it makes Dean sit up and scoot closer to him. “They had a very good program and I got in.”

“You never told me that. Why’d you switch out?” 

Castiel shrugs. “I lacked the confidence. And I was struggling. Then I met Inias and when he told me most of my credits were transferable to the library science degree, I did it. And I was never a good writer to begin with.” He says the last bit in a rush and the frown that was already working its way onto Dean’s face gets deeper. “Inias said I could still try to write, but having the library science degree could get me an ‘actual job’.” 

Even Castiel frowns at his own air quotes, saying the words back and hearing now how condescending they were. Castiel’s shoulders sag. “He wasn’t exactly wrong, as I did actually become a boring librarian and not a famous writer.” Trying to joke to hide how much that hurts falls flat, even Castiel knows it. 

It makes Dean scoff and sit up and he leans in to wrap a hand around the side of Castiel’s neck, his thumb sweeping against his skin, his other hand hovering between them. 

“Okay, one,” he says, flipping out one finger to prove his point. “You could never be boring if you tried, and B,” he continues, his whole hand pointing now, “you are definitely the hottest librarian I’ve  _ ever _ seen, and three, your ex is a douche.” 

There was nothing about his relationship with Inias that impressed Dean when he recalled it to him one night while they sat beside the fountain. Ever since, Dean wears a perpetual frown whenever he comes up in conversation and he’s always quick to counter Castiel’s misconstrued character flaws. 

It makes Castiel’s cheeks warm and he shakes his head. “Dean.” 

Pulling Castiel to him, Dean presses their foreheads together. “And I don’t believe for a second that you’re a bad writer and I would totally love to read anything you’ve written.”

His heart pounds in his chest. Other than editors and their staff, and any publishing house that got a draft, no one Castiel knows has ever read his book, let alone even asked to read it. “You don’t have to.”

“I  _ want _ to,” Dean presses, wanting his point made. 

And Castiel gets it, he’s just not sure he’s ready. Which is dumb. His eyes flick to the solid oak box that sits on one of his bookshelves, inside containing a copy of Castiel’s manuscript and his personalized stack of rejection letters. It’s taken him a long time to see them as a badge of honor, proof that he tried, versus the tangible proof of his failure as a writer.

At least that’s what Castiel reminds himself when he looks at the box every day.

Dean’s eyes follow, some understanding clearing away the uncertainty in them. He gives Castiel his attention back. “Think about it, okay?” 

Castiel’s nodding when Dean kisses him and relief floods through him. He wants to show Dean and he will, someday, and the way Dean’s kissing him, like it’s okay that Castiel wasn’t ready, tells him that  _ someday _ will be a lot sooner than they expect. 

It’s easy to get lost in their day together, the rest of it spent not doing much except whispering more secrets into each other’s skin and taking more time to learn each other, each kiss and touch revered and sacred and so loving, Castiel misses it hours before Dean’s set to leave. 

He tries not to make it obvious, tries to stay upbeat, but he has to sleep in his bed alone tonight after sharing it with Dean and he’s not looking forward to it. One good thing is that in the afternoon, the rain let up enough for the three of them to take a walk, a nice long one around the park where everything is washed free of its dirt and grime, the air fresh as it blows through the trees, the smell of the storm lingering in the air. 

Dean still notices Castiel’s slipping mood and he hugs him while they wait for Pug to sniff around and do his business and it’s like he gives Castiel his own sense of renewal, the way Dean makes Castiel feel just as new as the impending summer. He somehow takes away all of Castiel’s blues and brightens them by promising that, if it’s okay with Castiel, he’d like to stay over more often and when they get back upstairs, Castiel cleans out the bedside table that Dean’s taken over and emptied one of his drawers, making it clear that Dean is to be careful of his plants if he intends to stay which just makes Dean laugh and push him down onto the bed to kiss until Pug comes looking for them for his dinner. 

Castiel further forgets to miss Dean when, after dinner, while they clean up, Dean puts on another one of his tapes, these songs upbeat, which Castiel believes was the point, once the dance party starts around him. Dean barely has to do anything before Pug is swishing his pink bottom back and forth, his affinity for music having grown since Claire discovered it. It makes Dean throw his head back with laughter and the combination of them is too infectious for Castiel to deny and soon enough, he’s joining them, Dean’s hands going straight for his hips and slipping under his shirt, Dean’s fingers curling possessively around them so he can guide Castiel back and forth. 

Castiel huffs when he accidentally steps on Dean’s feet but Dean just laughs it off. “You like this music?” His smile curls knowingly as Castiel nods. “Then my theory was correct.” 

“What theory?” Castiel asks suspiciously. 

“That you’re cute,” Dean says, by way of explanation. “See, this is  _ ABBA _ .” As if that explains  _ anything _ to Castiel. “I just knew you’d like it.” 

“Dean,” he protests.

Going on, he smiles slyly. “You know, it’s possible you’re  _ the _ cutest, but that could use some extra study.” 

The heat flairs in his cheeks and it’s almost impossible to fight back his smile, but Castiel must, giving up when Dean pulls him closer with a chuckle, holding their hands between them as they press together, Pug weaving between their feet while they dance, all the way until the tape ends. 

It’s incredibly hard to say goodnight but Castiel manages, only because Dean promises to bring some extra supplies for his morning walks, which was the rather silly reason he couldn’t stay again tonight. He promises to be better prepared for next time, now that he has his own  _ drawers _ and a place to put things.

Castiel understands what he means when he shows up the next time with  _ another _ duffle, this one containing extra leashes and a strange contraption that rigs them all together so Dean can manage quite a few at once. His morning walk is the most crowded and he leaves early for it, which is why he was hesitant at first to stay during the week, not wanting to disturb Castiel’s sleep.

Dean confesses all of this during their first mid-week sleepover, only a few days after the weekend, before he learned Castiel is a heavy sleeper, heavier when he sleeps with Dean, the comfort and warmth of sharing a bed giving him a deep sense of peace and safety and with that comes the best sleep he’s had in years. 

On the nights he doesn’t sleep over, Dean stays late so they can enjoy dinner together, followed by whatever they want to do. Sometimes they read, sometimes they play cards, but mostly they just end up talking long into the night about anything and everything, the big exception to that being what happened between him and Sam. 

Castiel can always tell the days he calls though because Dean arrives with a cloud hanging over him. He fidgets more and hovers a lot when Castiel’s cooking and if he doesn’t give him a job, Dean paces. The only benefit to that is how easily it wears Pug out, the little pig insisting on trotting along Dean’s side as he wears down Castiel’s floors. 

He seems agitated tonight, and Castiel wonders if something happened. He clears his throat, and Dean spins, looking sheepish to be caught pacing. “Sorry. There somethin’ I can do to help?” 

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “Can you please set the table? And feed Pug?” He gives the salad he’s making a final toss. “This is done, I just need to take the chicken out.” 

At his side now, Dean nods and leans in to kiss his cheek, still distracted. Castiel catches him by the wrist. “Is everything okay?” 

Dean does his best to school his features but Castiel knows him and he knows something is up. “Everything’s fine, babe. Food smells great.” He tries for a reassuring smile before he’s turning to the cabinets to take down the plates and salad bowls. “When are you gonna let me cook for you, huh?” 

“I thought the loft didn’t have a kitchen.” While he’s  _ heard _ many things about Dean’s place, he has yet to go. Dean blames Ash and Jo and a lack of privacy, but Castiel thinks there’s more to that story. Not that it matters much to him, and Dean seems very comfortable spending time here. 

Dean screws up his nose as he hands Castiel the bowls to serve them salad. “Yeah, Ash’s microwave does not a kitchen make.”

“You could do it here,” Castiel suggests, only stating the obvious. “Tomorrow, if you’d like to stay the night?” Dean’s schedule is the lightest on Friday’s and he’s been staying over most Friday nights since the party. “You’re free to use whatever you need while I close the store.” Kevin opens for him on Friday mornings. 

Dean’s been nodding as Castiel speaks and he looks like he’s considering it. Castiel can almost see him working out the details while he waits for him to agree and the slow smile that grows on his face makes Castiel think he made an acceptable suggestion. It’s almost a relief to see, considering Dean’s only smile tonight was when he arrived and first saw them waiting for him on the front patio, Pug in the rhododendrons and Castiel reading the latest Stephen King novel. 

“I’d need to hit a few places, could I stop by and drop off groceries?” 

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “Do you think I’d ever say no to seeing you a few more times throughout an otherwise uneventful day?” 

He loves to make Dean blush. 

The next day, it’s lovely to see Dean when he arrives an hour before his usual time, his arms full of bags overflowing with groceries. Castiel’s downstairs discussing inventory with Kevin when Dean arrives and even just seeing him through the window stops the words in Castiel’s throat. 

Dean’s beautiful in the bright morning light. His hair is newly orange, Castiel unable to imagine what time him and Jo must have been up doing it, or how late they worked into the night, even after Dean left his house after midnight. At least he’s grinning when he sees Castiel as he opens the door for him, dropping a kiss right to his mouth.

Smiling, Castiel takes a few bags from him. “Hello, Dean.”

“Heya, Cas,” he replies, his smile growing wider as they walk through the store and past the register. “What’s up, Kevin, my man, high five?” 

Kevin’s eyes grow wide and he looks from Dean’s hair to Castiel and back to Dean’s hand before he gives Dean a reluctant high five back. Castiel can’t seem to figure out why Dean seems to intimidate Kevin so much and Dean has no idea either, but he tries, and Castiel adores him for it. 

Sighing, he gives Dean a push towards the red staircase. “Kevin, we’ll be right back and then we can continue our discussion.”

Kevin nods and goes back to the spreadsheet he was formatting, mostly to avoid Dean, Castiel assumes. They’ve been in discussion about the store’s online sales and Castiel would like Kevin to get more involved, possibly to take it over as one of his job duties. While going over last months sales, Castiel noticed quite a considerable drop—enough to make him concerned and he’d spent quite some time considering his options. With the store opening, he hasn’t had the same amount of time to dedicate to fulfilling his online orders and some of his uncle’s customers had fallen away and Castiel would like to get them back.

“Everything okay?” Dean inquires over his shoulder as they head upstairs.

Castiel taps him and makes a quiet motion against his lips, wanting Dean to keep his voice low as not to wake Pug who was left sleeping on the couch after Castiel moved him up here earlier. He fell asleep downstairs in a beam of sun on the sales floor after his morning walk. Dean ducks his head in apology and they both unload the groceries before Dean needs to go again. Castiel tries for the door but doesn’t make it because Dean seems to have other ideas.

Snagging him by the wrist, he pulls Castiel into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him as soft and as quick as he can, Castiel still not sure what’s happening. Until Dean spins around and cups his cheek so he can kiss Castiel. 

Castiel’s hands fold into the lapels of Dean’s black pullover to tug them closer, only letting one go so he can slip his hand in between Dean’s two shirts to go under his arm. Instead of being pushed down onto the bed like he’s expecting, Dean holds Castiel close so he can spin him around and press him against the door, deepening their kiss with a growl. Castiel returns his enthusiasm with a groan and a hand in his hair. 

That makes Dean smile, but it also makes him pull back, much to Castiel’s frustration. “Sorry tiger, but I gotta run.” 

Castiel furrows his brow. “Then why did you bring me in here?” The signal’s Dean’s giving him are very mixed. 

“Just wanted to say good morning  _ properly. _ And not wake the baby,” he replies with a bounce of his eyebrows. “What, you mad? Didn’t seem mad about those kisses.” 

Scoffing, Castiel grabs him again and takes an extra kiss, if Dean wants to be a brat about it. The laugh he gets in response melts his annoyance away, but he still frowns at Dean when he pulls open the bedroom door. He’s teasing Castiel as he heads out, promising he’ll be back in less than an hour, shooting finger guns at Kevin and making him duck behind the counter. 

Dean’s cute and he knows it and that’s the problem. Smiling to himself, Castiel turns back to see Kevin watching Dean leave and not rising all the way until he’s out of sight. Rolling his eyes, he gets Kevin back on track about his new job duties, Castiel enjoying the shock on his face when he tells Kevin he’s giving him a small raise for the additional work. He’s happy to, Castiel wants Kevin to be a loyal employee, and maybe want to continue to work for him for the foreseeable future, or at least until he’s ready to move on after he’s done with school. 

Castiel ends up seeing Dean quite a few times throughout the day. He keeps popping in with new things in secret bags, and after the first delivery, he won’t let Castiel see what he’s bringing in and he makes him swear not to look, Castiel complaining that he needs to be able to get his lunch out of the fridge which just makes Dean show up with sandwiches for all three of them. 

Kevin squeaks out a thank you before he shuts himself in the office with his lunch, much to Dean’s amusement. 

“Weird kid you hired, Cas.” He takes a big bite of his meatball sub. 

“I like him,” Castiel muses. 

Dean pouts, his cheeks full, and only he could look so adorable as he finishes his bite. “More than me?” 

Castiel huffs and leans in to kiss the tip of Dean’s nose. “How could I? He never brings me lunch.” The bite he takes of his turkey sandwich is very satisfying. 

So is Dean’s amused (and proud) shrug as he digs into his lunch from the other side of the sales counter. 

It feels like the longest day, waiting for six so he can close the store. Kevin left hours ago, and Dean’s been upstairs cooking for the last two of them and Castiel’s strictly forbidden to go upstairs until the store is closed. He’s had to endure the sounds of Dean and Pug, muffled music and skittering hooves from above, Castiel almost able to track their movements around the apartment if he tries hard enough but when he starts to listen, he just wants to close early and go upstairs to join them. 

But Dean knew he would, which is why he asked Castiel not to. He’s been in such a good mood today, prepping his surprise, that there’s no way Castiel could even say no to him if he tried. It’s the happiest Dean’s been in a while and Castiel doesn’t want to do anything to mess that up. It’s why he stays on track with his normal closing procedure, not rushing anything, and he’s almost through counting out the day’s till when his phone vibrates on the counter in front of him. 

Claire’s picture lights up his screen for their daily Facetime chat. He answers it with a smile as he closes the cash register. “Hello Claire, how’s Greece? That’s where you were going yesterday, right?” 

Jimmy and his family have been gone for almost a month now, and it’s been hard to keep track of their comings and goings. They started in Italy and Castiel thinks they mean to end somewhere along the Mediterranean but he’s not sure. The sun and (Castiel secretly thinks) the time away have done her well. Her cheeks hold a healthy flush and she looks bright eyed and rested. 

“Hi Uncle! Guess what!” He doesn’t get an answer about their location before Claire continues. “We’re coming home, dad just told me!” 

Castiel’s face breaks out in a wide smile. “Claire, that’s great news! You know we miss you here, Pug misses his cousin. When can we expect you?” 

“One more week,” she says, almost seeming sad it’s so soon, as if she never dreaded the thought of this vacation in the first place. “I have presents for everyone though, where’s Dean? I want to ask him something.” 

Castiel’s eyes roll up to the ceiling and he checks the time on his phone. 

6:02 p.m.

Brightening, he hurries over to the door to flip around his hand drawn open/closed sign (penned by his  _ boyfriend)  _ and turn the locks before he closes the shades. “Dean’s upstairs making us dinner,” he advises as he turns the lights off in the store, the light from the evening still bright enough for him to see. “I was forbidden to go up until I closed the store.” 

Claire laughs as Castiel hurries up the stairs, knocking once before he pokes his head inside. “Dean? Can I come in? I have Claire on the phone,” he calls through the door, still wanting to respect Dean’s request, as eager as he is to see what Dean’s made. Whatever it is, it smells incredible and Castiel’s mouth waters. 

“You can only go straight to the couch, eyes off the kitchen,” Dean replies from inside, making Pug squeal and run towards the doorway, now that Castiel is pushing through, permission granted. “Hi Claire,” he calls out over his shoulder.

Castiel only glances at him to see Dean’s facing the stove before he ducks down to scoop Pug up and under one arm as he takes a seat on the couch. He holds the phone out to include Pug in the shot. “Say hi to Claire, little one, she’s coming home, isn’t that exciting?” 

“Hi baby, hi Puggy, oh how’s my big boy.” she coos, her happiness obvious. Pug sniffs the phone but squeals a bit when he hears Claire, even though he can’t seem to figure out where she is. It makes them both laugh and Claire looks to Castiel. “He’s getting big. Got him some cool stuff, I’m glad I went a size bigger. People love to dress their pets up around here.” 

They chat for a bit as Dean continues to work and Castiel remembers that Claire had a question for him. He shields his eyes as he tries for Dean’s attention, holding the phone up and shaking it. “Dean, Claire has a question for you.” 

He can hear Dean chuckle from the kitchen as Claire begins to talk. “Hey Dean, did you know that they  _ love _ Queen here? They’re like, crazy about them, it’s so weird.” 

“Oh yeah!” Dean’s excited by Claire’s question, it’s clear in his voice even if Castiel can’t see him. “It was one of the last places he toured with them!” 

“Well I found some vintage posters for you at a flea market, so I shipped them to my uncles, I hope that’s all right, I didn’t have your address.” 

Castiel can hear Dean approaching and he attempts to look back at him, but only get’s Dean turning his head back away from the kitchen as he leans over the couch to look at Claire properly. He’s grinning from ear to ear when his face drops in beside Castiel’s. 

“Course it is, that is so freakin’ cool, kid.” He flashes a bright smile at her and Castiel can’t help but admire him in the little camera box. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s all good, I got some for me too.” She grins back at them. “Uncle, I got you something too, but I can fly home with it.” 

Castiel’s intrigued, but he shakes his head. “You know you didn’t have to get me anything.” 

“I know,” she chirps. 

“You havin’ a good time though?” Dean asks, a little concerned. He knows how Claire felt about going too. “Looks pretty awesome from all the pictures.” 

“Yeah, it hasn’t been all bad. But I miss New York,” she replies, wistful. 

“It misses you too, kiddo,” Dean promises, and something warm spreads through Castiel listening to them as Pug trots back and forth on the cushions. “Now I gotta keep trying to keep your uncle from peaking at dinner. You know he’s just using this video chat to try and get a look.” 

Dean’s teasing and Castiel rolls his eyes. “I am not,” he grouches, looking sideways at Dean’s smirk he sees in the camera as Pug clambers back into his lap.

“Yeah you are, so quit it,” he replies, kissing the apple of Castiel’s cheek before he winks at Claire and gives Pug a pat as he turns back to the kitchen. “See you soon, kid!” 

Castiel turns the camera back to himself once Dean’s back in the kitchen. He grins at Claire. “It smells quite good, I think he made us hamburgers,” he confides, and Claire laughs. 

“You guys are the cutest,” she declares and Castiel shakes his head. “Okay uncle, I’m gonna go, my dad keeps looking at me like he  _ knows _ it’s you on the phone.” 

“Tell him we said hello,” he replies wryly. 

“Sure, will do,” she replies with a huff. Her grin returns though. “Love you, see you guys soon!” and with that, she ends their call. 

“That’s good news, huh,” Dean says from the kitchen and before Castiel can answer, he’s stopped by a pan crashing to the floor and Dean cursing loudly. It makes Pug lift his head from where he’s trying to burrow into the cushions. 

“Everything okay?” Castiel asks, cautious and hoping their dinner isn’t on the ground. 

“All good, pan just got too hot.” A small scuffle and then, “Dinner’s ready!” 

Castiel was right, Dean cooked them hamburgers and they are  _ delicious _ . For a hamburger connoisseur like Dean has proven himself to be, Castiel doesn’t know why Dean bothers when he makes the best hamburger Castiel’s ever had in his life. He tells him as much and Dean gets flustered. 

Castiel ignores his stammering and takes another big bite of his burger. “These make me very happy,” he advises before popping the last bite in his mouth and grabbing his second. 

“Thanks, Cas” Dean finally says, proudly, keeping it simple and succeeding the most with it. “Just be sure to save some room for dessert.” 

_ Much _ to Castiel’s delight, he’s glad he listened to Dean and declined a third burger, because dessert ends up being homemade cherry pie. While they enjoyed their burgers and hand cut french fries, the smell of baking fruit and butter filled the apartment and when Dean pulls it steaming from the oven, he makes Castiel close his eyes while he puts something else in to bake. Whatever it is smells good too as they work together to wash the dishes but Dean won’t reveal his final surprise until they’re done and Castiel’s sitting down and waiting.

“Okay, I figured since I was cooking for you, it was only right to cook something for my little buddy too,” Dean tells him and Castiel’s eyebrows go up as Dean pulls on an oven mitt with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and opens the oven to pull out a tiny, baby sized pie. “Sweet potato pie with a cauliflower crust,” he announces. “Probably fine for us to eat, but might not taste that great, not like our pie.” 

Castiel doesn’t even realize that he’s slipped off his stool to stand beside Dean, his eyes only on the little pie that Dean made just for Pug, now cooling next to their adult sized dessert. Pug’s pie has a golden yellow crust and the sweet potato is whipped in tiny peaks that have tiny darkened edges. It looks delicious and the gesture overwhelms Castiel with gratitude.

“The internet says that cauliflower shit is easy to work with but I had a hell of a time making a crust out of it and no one mentions that it stinks if you cook it too much but—” 

Dean looks surprised when Castiel cuts him off with a hard kiss, unable to resist him for another moment. He melts into it though, and soon, he’s smiling wide against Castiel’s mouth and kissing him back enthusiastically. He huffs a laugh when Castiel pushes him by the hips to press him against the edge of the counter and kiss him deeper.

Pulling away from those perfect, pink bow lips is near impossible but Castiel forces himself to do it. “This is incredible, you know that right? You’re incredible.” He stills Dean’s shaking head by cupping one of his cheeks. “This isn’t up for debate. You went above and beyond, Dean and I just—we just—” 

Castiel can’t find the right words for what he’s feeling but he doesn’t have to, because Dean leans in to kiss him again and it helps them both get through the moment, words just seeming a bit too difficult to form. 

Pug’s pie was only warming and theirs is cool enough to eat, so the three of them enjoy their dessert together, Castiel and Dean’s pie sweetened by the honey ice cream he picked up, special order from Cain’s that he somehow managed, citing a few favors called in for the last minute request. The pie is cooked perfectly, and Castiel asks where Dean learned and he cites Ellen as the one who taught him his way around a kitchen, after he got sober. He promises to take Castiel over to her place for dinner, advising that she’s been pestering him about it. 

By the time they’ve had two pieces each, Pug is done with his pie and is a complete and utter mess, something Dean anticipated since he stripped him before he put him down to eat. Sweet potato is covering his face and he’s stepped in it with three of his feet and it’s even on his tail and Dean can’t stop laughing until Castiel reminds him of his acceptance of Pug’s bath duties. But Dean’s too smart for him, only wiping Pug down for now so the three of them can take Pug’s evening walk together, and promising a nice, big bubble bath for the pig when they return. 

Castiel can’t think of anything better than night’s like this. They’re together, they’re laughing, all of them are well fed and the night is warm, summer hanging on by a thread. They’ve tried to make as much use of the warm nights as they could, spending extra time in the park and at the fountain, Dean happy to wade in with his pants rolled up so Pug can feel the cool water, which he loved _ . _ It’s hard to keep him  _ out _ of the fountain now, most of the time. 

Tonight Pug must be full, because he’s content to curl up between their feet when they sit down at it, a cool breeze sending a spray of water their way. The square is lit by the white arch and it’s still crowded out, people riding bikes, playing soccer, or just sitting in groups talking and eating food. It’s nice, made even better when Dean takes his hand and they people watch for a while, chat with a few people that pass by, and it’s only when the three of them are alone again does Castiel notice that Dean’s become distant. He keeps their hands held tight together.

“I talked to Sam yesterday.”

Castiel knew it. 

“I didn’t tell you but, he’s been tryin’ to call and after what happened, with you there, I just wasn’t ready to talk to him.” Dean’s eyes follow a skateboarder doing tricks across the way. “Finally just picked up so he’d stop, you know? He said our dad’s getting worse.” He rubs his free hand over his mouth, and Castiel caresses the inside of his palm with his thumb. “Old son of a bitch is finally drinking himself to death, turns out, and  _ now _ he wants to talk? What the hell could he want to say to me? He disappeared, Cas,” he spits out, dropping his voice as he realizes he’s been raising it. Castiel didn’t find it loud enough to draw attention just yet, but he leans in to hear Dean. “Kept popping up, wanting money, but the last time was years ago. Only saw him twice after I got sober, but maybe that’s why he went off the grid.” He shakes his head. “He was  _ not _ a fan of the green hair.” 

“It brings out your eyes,” Castiel comments softly. 

“He said it made me look like a—” Dean cuts himself off with a frustrated huff and hatred burns hot and sour in the back of Castiel’s throat. “By the time he came back, he’d picked up a few quality slurs to use on his bisexual disappointment of a son, said he was gonna get over to Stanford to see his real son graduate. Don’t know if he made it, didn’t care by then and honestly, after a few years, I forgot to worry about the next time he’d show up, you know?” 

Castiel can tell this is incredibly difficult for Dean, so he just holds him tighter and scoots closer, so their thighs are pressing together. 

“And now this shit. Everyone’s on my case about it too—Bobby keeps trying to get me into his office, Ellen seems to be in the bar waiting for me every time I come in and out. She doesn’t even  _ live _ there,” he exclaims, baffled. “She even got Jo to give me a lecture this morning when she was doin’ my hair.” 

Castiel frowns. “They want you to speak to him?” Why anyone would want to pressure Dean into conversing with his abuser is beyond Castiel. Because that’s what John Winchester is, in the worst kind of way. 

“Yeah but it’s not like they know the worst of it.” His shoulders sag. “They just don’t want me to have any regrets or something.” He furrows his brow and finally looks at Castiel. “What do you think I should do, you’ve never said.” 

Castiel’s surprised. “I—I didn’t think it was my place,” he says, careful. 

“Cas, you’re my boyfriend, it’s definitely your place.” 

Warmth floods his cheeks and he looks down between them. “I knew you’d talk to me when you were ready to, but I also knew something was wrong but we were having such a nice night, I didn’t—” 

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down with this bullshit.” Dean pulls his hand free and stands, Pug lifting a tired head at him. “Let’s get little big man back home.” 

Castiel bites his lip but stands as Dean leans down to pick Pug up to carry him back. Castiel thinks he puts Pug in the crook of his arm closest to him for a reason but he doesn’t press him. He didn’t  _ mean _ to imply that Dean ruined their night, but he realizes how his words came out and how sensitive Dean must feel to everything right now. 

He’s putting the key in the lock but the guilt Castiel feels at upsetting Dean is almost too much and he turns to him before he unlocks the door. Dean’s waiting behind him, his head down as he pets a now sleeping pig in his arm and under the yellow porch light, Dean burns bright and beautiful and Castiel can’t help but take a step towards him, leaving his key to hang in the lock. 

“Dean, I want to apologize. It was not my intention to imply that you did or said anything to take away from our wonderful night.” 

He looks up from Pug in surprise as Castiel goes on. 

“Please know you didn’t. It was actually quite perfect,” he confesses and he drops his gaze to Pug. 

“Even with the crappy topic of conversation?” 

Castiel looks back at him, his gaze intent to catch Dean’s. “Any conversation with you is better than the next and as your  _ boyfriend, _ I’m here for all of them, always, anytime you need me.” He closes the space between them with one more step. “I will always come when you call, Dean. And I know you’ll do the same.” 

He holds Dean’s gaze for a few more beats, or maybe days, or maybe lifetimes, but eventually, Dean takes his hand, only letting go to unlock the door and pocket Castiel’s key, pausing long enough for Castiel to lock the door behind them before he’s leading Castiel upstairs. The air between them is charged, sparked by Castiel’s reassurances and promises and whatever it is, it stays lit between them as they part inside, both motivated to complete their tasks to get back to each other that much faster. 

Dean puts Pug to bed faster than Castiel’s ever seen and he’s covering the pie when Castiel finishes washing their last plate. Castiel’s distracted by Dean bending over to put the pie in the fridge when he turns and notices, smiling when he grabs the towel Castiel’s using to dry his hands, tossing it to the counter so he can slide his hands to the sides of Castiel’s neck and finally kiss him properly, the way Castiel’s been wanting him too all day. 

He sinks right into Dean’s kiss, burrows there, makes himself comfortable because it’s where Castiel would stay forever, if anyone asked. Dean hums into their kiss and nudges Castiel back with his hips, walking them slowly to the bedroom, taking his time to dip his tongue into Castiel’s mouth and the thrill he feels, being wanted by Dean, it makes Castiel feel alive. 

Dean grins when he tugs open the buttons of Castiel’s shirt one by one, pulling each side free of his pants as they cross the threshold into the bedroom. He always teases Castiel about his work shirts being too stiff for a bookstore, but he sure doesn’t mind peeling Castiel out of them, his groan appreciative when he pushes the shirt off Castiel’s wide shoulders. 

“How are you real,” Dean mutters as his hands trace down the muscles of Castiel’s arms, peppering kisses across his jaw. “Still can’t believe you want me.” 

Castiel gasps away from Dean’s lips with a sharp shake of his head. “You’ve got it backwards Dean,” he pants against Dean’s kiss slick lips, pressing his against them between breaths. “It’s me who is lucky to be yours. And I wake up every day and I’m reminded when I see your smile, or, if I’m really lucky, when your arms wrap around me in bed, or when you kiss me awake.” 

“Cas,” Dean whines, his eyes screwed shut as Castiel kisses his cheeks. 

“I am yours, Dean Winchester.” Green eyes fly open, full of heat and yearning at Castiel’s admission. It gives Castiel even more courage. “And I’ll continue to be yours, as long as you’ll want me.” 


	17. Chapter 17

“Always gonna want you, Cas, always,” Dean says on a groan before he’s crashing their mouths together, all heat, and passion and raw, real need for each other, for the solace and joy and _ love _ they’ve found in each other. 

Love. 

Love love love. 

When his knees hit the back of the bed, when Dean wraps a strong arm around him to lower Castiel into the sheets, when he hovers above him to stare at Castiel with more warmth and fondness than anyone’s ever looked at him with, it’s then that Castiel knows he’s really, truly—and so very deeply—in love with Dean. 

It’s something he’s never felt before, never understood until now and Castiel knows there’s no coming back from this. 

So Castiel kisses him, puts every terrifying, liberating all-encompassing feeling he has behind each one so Dean can feel his love. “Dean, please,” he begs, not sure what for but wanting Dean to give it to him, wanting Dean to give him everything and knowing he will, trusting that he’ll get everything he needs from the man pressing him into his mattress. The weight of him steals Castiel’s breath and his lips confound every one of his senses and Castiel’s completely wrecked by him, and he only wants more. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m gonna give you everything,” he whispers between them and Castiel can feel that promise sink into his bones, into his soul. The heat between them grows, consumes, lights them both on fire as shaking fingers fumble with belt buckles and zippers, Castiel gasping into the darkness when Dean dips his hand past his waistband, his beautiful, clever fingers wrapping around Castiel and freeing him, thumbing at his slit while he swallows every sigh and sound that falls from Castiel’s mouth as he strokes him to hardness. 

They all belong to him, anyway. 

He grumbles about Castiel’s “librarian” slacks and he grins proudly against Castiel’s mouth when they hit the floor, Castiel’s silver belt buckle clanking against the wood floor. Wiggling out of his own pants, Dean glances between them and bursts out laughing. 

“Cas, babe, is your underwear  _ orange _ ?” 

His amusement isn’t stopping Dean from pulling them down, but Castiel still huffs in faux indignation as he lifts his hips. “Just take them off,” he mutters, and it makes Dean snicker more. 

“Did you wanna match,” he asks as he leans in to drag his teeth along Castiel’s jaw, grin still in place. “Because I picked this hair color for you.” 

Castiel gasps when Dean sucks at the skin behind his ear. Coupled with his admission, Castiel’s arousal soars as Dean drags his mouth slowly down his neck, his hot, insistent mouth making its way steadily down, down, further still until he’s pulling a bruise to the surface of the skin around Castiel’s hipbone. 

It’s the sweet, soft kisses Dean leaves over the marks that really take Castiel apart and he groans, choking on his pleasure and overwhelmed by sensation as Dean drags his flat tongue across Castiel’s belly. His chuckle is filthy when he finds Castiel’s cock, rock hard and leaking against his stomach. Dean’s hot breath caresses Castiel’s sensitive skin and when he wraps plump lips around him, stars burst behind his eyelids and Dean’s name gets lost amongst all the other shameless noises Dean pulls from deep inside him as he works his mouth up and down Castiel’s length. 

Dean strokes him with one hand while he uses his mouth and Castiel’s lost in the heat of him and the slide of his fingers into the creases of Castiel’s body that he hasn’t shared with another person in far too many years to recount. Gentle fingers open Castiel slowly, Dean taking his time, kissing along the inside of Castiel’s thighs when his breathing gets too fast and he stumbles over Dean’s name in his mouth, the heat in his belly trying to burn him from the inside out. 

Beyond ready, Castiel moans with need when Dean leaves the vee of his legs, hitching one of Castiel’s thighs up and around him. He holds a hand out for Castiel to take as he steadies them, Dean sucking in a breath as he presses himself between Castiel’s legs and squeezes Castiel’s hand tight as he enters him.

They both gasp when Dean pushes inside him, and Castiel’s back arches off the bed as Dean slides in, hot, burning, and so goddamn thick and good as he pushes himself as deep as he can, until he’s pressed flush against Castiel’s body, both of them panting around tiny whines and each other’s names. 

Dean trails kisses from Castiel’s forehead, down to his mouth, and across his chin, his breathing shallow as he noses at Castiel’s cheek. “Okay, sweetheart? God, you feel so—you’re so—”

“Perfect,” Castiel breathes out, finishing Dean’s sentence with the only word he can to describe how it feels to be under Dean, to be at his mercy and know Dean will take care of him. 

“Yeah, Cas, I got you,” is Dean’s last promise before he moves, before everything between them becomes sensation, and heat, and sounds of pleasure and Dean, in complete control of all of it. He increases the roll of his hips and the urgency of his kisses, and Castiel’s certain it’s Dean’s hands sliding into his hair that are keeping him from floating away and he can only lift his hips to match Dean’s thrusts as his intensity grows. 

He claws at Dean’s back and tightens his legs around him, Dean moaning openly, shamelessly, into Castiel’s mouth. “Please,” he begs, and when he finds Castiel’s eyes in the dark, they’re dark with lust and desperation and Castiel wants to hear him. 

“Tell me,” Castiel grovels back, crying out when Dean grinds into him as he presses their foreheads together, both of them slippery with sweat. 

“Want you to come with me,” he says between hitched breathes and Castiel can only nod and slip his hand between them, only there alone for a moment before Dean’s hand wraps around his, keeping his control of Castiel’s pleasure as he brings them both to completion, swallowing Castiel’s moans as he spills between them, covering both their hands with his spend, as Dean fills him, makes Castiel feel complete at the same time he takes him apart and it’s overwhelming as much as it’s satisfying. 

Dean keeps Castiel completely bewildered. He hopes it never ends. 

They don’t part until they’ve exchanged a sufficient amount of kisses and small, shy smiles and when Dean slips out of him, he kisses each of Castiel’s fingertips and makes him swear to stay put until he can get the shower going, and Castiel’s content to lay back and let Dean do as he pleases. He watches Dean pad over to the bathroom and flip the light on, the warm light spilling into the room and despite the fact that he just had a mind blowingly good orgasm, arousal still stirs in his belly seeing Dean’s naked, lithe body move about the room. His long, curvy bow legs are strong and Castiel can attribute all his riding and walking to them, and his firm, round butt that reminds Castiel of a peach which just makes him huff out a laugh when he glances up at Dean’s orange hair. 

Curious, Dean looks over his shoulder from where he’s about to turn on the shower but Castiel just smiles at him, knowing Dean will come back to him when he’s ready. That doesn’t mean Castiel doesn’t pull him back down on top of him for just another moment to kiss him when he does. Boyfriend rights and all that. 

Castiel’s practically giddy, he can’t stop smiling as Dean drags him out of bed, literally by the ankle, to get Castiel up and into the shower with him. 

“What’s with you, huh?” Dean huffs, laughing when Castiel fashions his orange hair into spikes as he washes it, laughing harder when Castiel just replies with a bounce of his eyebrows. 

“Oh, that’s the secret, huh,” he teases, sliding a hand to the small of Castiel’s back to tug him closer. “If I want an excited Cas, I just have to put—” 

Castiel cuts off Dean’s inevitably crude rhyme with a hand over his mouth. “Don’t get carried away.” 

That just makes Dean grin wide and kiss him and when they get back into bed, Castiel opens his arm so Dean can settle under it, so he can run his fingers through Dean’s hair, all while Dean arranges their legs and gets comfortable with his head laying on Castiel’s chest. The sheet covers their bottom half and Dean runs his fingertips through Castiel’s chest hair, his patterns idle. 

It’s peaceful between them, the room quiet, the only sounds coming from the city outside, a siren wailing, a distant car alarm, comforting ambient noise that’s almost put Castiel to sleep when Dean breaks the silence to ask him a question. 

“Do you think I should go see my dad? Honestly.” Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t look at him, just proposes his question to the darkness.

Castiel’s taken a lot of time and given this situation the thought it deserves and in doing so, he had to consider all sides, including Dean’s and including his own formed opinions of John Winchester, and he thinks he’s ready to answer Dean’s question the best he can.

“I think this is an impossible decision. I know that your father was awful to you, and I can hear in your voice when you speak of him, that you’re still hiding some of the more terrible details and honestly, Dean, what you’ve shared has already been horrifying.” 

Dean stiffens and Castiel rubs a hand along his arm as he goes on. “Now I know I’m not a father, and I’ve never experienced the unimaginable grief I’m sure he felt, losing his wife, so I can’t speak from experience but I believe that, despite his losses, your father should have done better.” Castiel shakes his head, even if Dean can’t see him. “He had two young boys to care for and he let them down. And because of that, because of his choices,  _ your _ choices were stolen from you and from Sam, and you didn’t get to be the incredible big brother you were meant to be.” Stroking through Dean’s hair, he coaxes him to tilt his head up and Castiel can see that Dean’s cheeks are wet. It makes the back of his throat ache with unshed tears of his own. 

He strokes fingers down the exposed column of Dean’s throat, Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbing under his fingers. “John Winchester was a seflish, abusive, and  _ weak _ man, so no, Dean, if you’re asking me if I think you should submit to his demands, one more time, just because he says so, then my answer to that is a very firm  _ no. _ ”

Dean’s eyes are wide in the moonlight as he looks up at Castiel, his mouth falling open in awe. Castiel runs his thumb along Dean’s plump bottom lip. “He doesn’t deserve to see the man you’ve become, despite his utter failures. You are extraordinary, and you only deserve goodness in your life.” 

His heart races when Dean dips his chin to kiss the pad of Castiel’s thumb. “That’s you, Cas. You and Pug.” Tears well in Castiel’s eyes and he swallows thickly as Dean goes on. “You’re my goodness.” 

When Dean leans up to kiss him, the tears that were gathering spill over and slip down Castiel’s cheeks. Dean tisks and reaches up to brush them away, stopping to catch a few of his own. “Stop that, you’ll get me going.” 

Castiel huffs out a wet laugh. “My apologies.” 

Tucking his face into the curve of Castiel’s neck, his breath is warm when Dean sighs and gathers himself. Castiel puts his hand back into Dean’s hair so he can do the same. They breathe together.

“Will Sam hate me if I don’t go?” It’s clear this is the bigger question to Dean and that hurts more, in a way. 

Castiel regrets his answer before he can even give it.

“I don’t know, darling,” Castiel whispers, wishing more than anything he did. “But I think if he chooses to, without knowing the real you, he’d be making the biggest mistake of his life.” 

Dean hums in thought.

“It wouldn’t be your fault,” Castiel reminds him and Dean huffs in response. “But you don’t have to decide tonight.” Orange hair tickles his nose when Castiel presses a kiss to the top of Dean’s head. His hair smells like almonds. “We can talk more anytime you want.”

“Or less,” Dean suggests, his teasing mild but still there and it makes Castiel believe they’ll get through this, whatever Dean decides. Castiel knows he’ll be right here for Dean until it’s all over. 

“As you wish, Dean,” he murmurs back, smiling when he feels Dean’s smile against his skin. Dean made him watch The Princess Bride a few nights ago and Castiel enjoyed it, and its subtext very much. Dean liked that Castiel liked it, citing it as one of his personal favorites. 

He stays awake until Dean begins to snore lightly, the way he does when he’s exhausted, Castiel’s noticed. It’s been a few days since he spent the night and Castiel worries how many of his four hours Dean’s gotten each night. Sighing into orange locks, all Castiel can do is hold Dean tighter, finding just as much comfort in him as he hopes he’s giving to Dean. 

»»————-  (´･(00)･｀)  ————-««

In the week leading up to Claire’s return to New York, Dean stays almost every single night. Sometimes he arrives later than usual, but he always shows up and every night, they fall asleep wrapped around each other. 

It’s why Castiel’s not happy when he comes inside their room to find Dean packing a duffle, the morning Claire is due to return. They’re moments from leaving for the farmer’s market, both having already trekked out once to set up their tables. The wagon Dean fashioned for Castiel’s books and his art is already ready and waiting by the front door and even Pug’s dressed and ready to go, harness on. 

Castiel puts him down as he steps in the room, frowning. “What are you doing?” 

Dean’s hands still as he looks up at him. “Gonna swap some of these clothes out, refill some supplies. Figured I’d stay at my place tonight, give you and Claire some time to catch up, you know?” 

“Are we still having dinner together?” Castiel’s brow furrows deeper. They had a plan to go out for ramen and Castiel thought Dean was on board. “You were looking forward to hearing about Claire’s trip.” 

Biting his lip, Dean continues to stuff his clothes in his bag until it’s full. “I am, I just got some shit to do and thought you two could use the time.” He drags the zipper shut with determination. “Me and the kid can catch up at the market, she said she’s coming straight over, right?” 

Castiel softens at that. The flight bringing them home lands in less than two hours and somehow, Claire convinced Jimmy to allow her to come straight to Castiel’s from the airport. She’ll be with them at the market for at least a few hours before they close up for the evening. 

“Yes,” he checks his watch. “If their flight is on time, Claire should arrive right before lunch.”

“Well, there you go. We’ll have lunch, the four of us.” The smile Dean gives him is tired and Castiel wonders how much sleep he got. Dean’s been restless the last few nights but Castiel hasn’t mentioned it. Dean slings the bag onto his shoulder, hitching it up once before clicking his tongue to get Pug out of the bathroom, and out the door. He kisses Castiel softly because he hasn’t left the doorway, still not feeling right about this. 

“It’s okay, babe. You’ll still be able to sleep without me.” 

Castiel hadn’t even  _ thought _ about that. 

He tries to ignore the grey cloud that follows them as they make their way to their tables, Ash already behind his and grinning as the three of them approach. Jo is busy arranging her crates and the market is bustling as they finish setting up, Castiel arranging his books as Dean props up his paintings. He clips his store banner to the front of his table, stepping back to admire it. 

_ West End Books _ is hand drawn in a typewriter font, a stack of books drawn on the end, and a happy, smiling Pug sitting on top of them. When he first presented it to Castiel, Dean was very shy about admitting that he’s responsible for all the hand drawn signs and banners in the market but was clearly pleased at all the praise Castiel showed him, even citing a few favorites, like Cain’s with the honey and Rowena’s with her flowers.

He’s always so proud of Dean’s art. 

Castiel loves Sundays in the park. Pug enjoys himself as well, Dean having fashioned him a long tether, somehow linked behind their tables so he can go back and forth, and if he stretches hard enough, he can even reach Ash. Ash always scoots closer when Pug goes to say hello. He can also run out in front of their tables, sometimes getting caught around table legs if he’s too enthusiastic. Most of the time, he’s just happy to sit in front and wait for someone to walk by and pet him. Castiel doesn’t mind, as long as everyone is respectful. They’ve never run into any problems. 

One of his favorite things is the way Dean scoots their chairs close. No matter how far apart they begin the day, they always end up side by side in no time. Dean will get up to sell something and as he sits back down, he nudges the chair closer as he talks about his sale, or whatever they were talking about before the customer arrived. 

He’s already close to Castiel, quicker than usual today, Dean having set them up that way. He’s holding Castiel’s hands and their knees are woven together as they lean in, Castiel laughing at one of Dean’s dog walking stories, something about a yorkie who was a little too enthusiastic about belly rubs when a grating voice interrupts them. 

“Bit indecent for a Sunday, don’t you think boys?” 

Good feelings gone, Castiel’s skin crawling is enough to tell him who’s stopped in front of them, the slimy accent the next giveaway. He scowls when Dean pulls away.

“Crowley,” Dean states, looking up. “What brings you by?” 

Crowley glances idly over Castiel’s wares, raising an eyebrow and hitching his hand, showing a thin and worn leather leash hooked to his arm. “My Juliet needed her walk and you know we like to stop by, be hospitable.” He looks fondly down at the so-called dog attached to the leash. “She does love to see your pig.” 

“Loves to sit on him, more like,” Castiel mutters. “Look at her, she’s already trying to do it.” 

Pug was resting in a beam of sun before his “friend” arrived, and Juliet, the very round and quite decrepit dog (what used to be a rottweiler, Castiel thinks, but the dog is so old, it’s hard to tell), is in fact trying to sit on Pug’s head. She makes it a habit to try to crush Pug by sitting on him every time Crowley stops by their tables to snoop around.

Crowley seems to have it in his head that his store and Castiel’s store are rivals.  _ Crowley’s Occult & Classics _ hardly seems like competition to him, further confirmed after Claire went in returning to advise that it’s all creepy spell books and dusty junk. 

Dean gave him a hearty  _ I told you so _ after she gave her report and Castiel put the man out of his mind, until he took notice of Castiel’s existence and ever since, has made it his business to come by every week. He could at least  _ buy _ something. 

“How’s business, then?” Crowley tries to sound innocent, but he’s incapable. He always comes around to this topic anyway so Castiel’s been expecting the question. 

“It’s fine, and yourself?” It’s none of his concern what state Castiel’s business is in, especially right now, when it isn’t as well as he’d like this late in the year. 

“Fairly well, as steady as can be,” he replies, and Castiel can tell Crowley’s losing interest and he’s glad for it. “Have any success finding that book Marv is looking for?” 

Marv had sent an inquiry to him  _ and  _ Crowley,  _ in the same email _ , requesting to know if either book seller could find him a very specific, very out of print book about ancient Mayan civilizations. Castiel can’t fathom why he wants it, Marv not striking him as any kind of collector but everyone has their thing, he supposes.

The book has been hard to obtain, but Castiel has faith in Kevin’s abilities to maneuver through the internet better than he can, and Kevin’s already involved in an online bid for a copy.

Castiel frowns. “No, but I have someone on it.” 

Humming, Crowley looks him up and down one more time, glancing at Dean at the same time he’s tugging on Juliet’s leash. “Say goodbye to the little slab of bacon, would you Juliet.” Said with such casualness, Castiel almost misses his rude remark as Crowley and Juliet slink away. Dean was sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowed, but he sat up at Crowley’s disrespectful comment. 

“That guy is such a creep,” he mutters, sitting back as Crowley walks away. Pug looks annoyed and sleepy when he trots back to them, the little pig not enjoying the hound’s attention either. Dean picks him up and smooths down his little black onesie. Dean painted music notes all over this one in pinks, blues, and purples and it’s one of Castiel’s favorites. “Have you heard from Claire? Think I should go grab the food?”

“Too late!” 

Both men turn towards the happy, bright voice, one that Castiel has missed very much. Claire stands on the other side of their tables, her hair up and piled on top of her head, blonder than before she left. She’s wearing a black hoodie over mustard yellow leggings, one of her green high tops untied and there’s a pair of pink headphones resting around her neck. 

Claire is a sight for sore eyes. 

Both men jump up at the same time Pug realizes it’s his real cousin and not the very confusing cousin that’s been trapped in the phone for the last month, much to his frustration every time they would video chat while he was awake. His squeals turn heads of passersby as Claire laughs and drops to one knee, holding the plastic bag she has with their lunch inside up to Dean who’s reached her first. 

Scooping Pug up, she stands and steps right into Castiel’s open arms. How nice it is to have Claire home. Her hair smells like honeysuckle as Castiel hugs her tight, and presses his cheek to her head. He swears she’s grown since he last saw her. 

She’s all smiles when she hugs Dean next, knocking the hat he’s wearing askew. That thing has been a bother all morning, but Castiel ought to be used to it by now. Dean already promised Jo was planning to do his hair tonight so no more hats for a while. 

“You tellin’ me you waited in Caesar's long ass line for these?” Dean pulls two foil wrapped burritos out of the bag. “How many did you get?” 

“Enough for all of us,” Claire answers, gesturing towards Jo and Ash too. “And I didn’t have to wait. Jesse was out with Matty and he saw me.” She beams at them and it melts Castiel’s heart to know that just as much as the Village has accepted him and Pug, they’ve also accepted Claire.

Dean grins and gives a sharp whistle, alerting Ash and Jo that lunch is being served. It’s a flurry of activity and welcome home greetings as Claire says hello, all while pulling off her backpack and settling in to sit between them all, Pug refusing to leave her lap, no matter how much coaxing Dean and Castiel both do. 

“It’s fine, guys, I missed him.” She waves them off. “Missed you so much, little baby, yes I did. Brought you back some fancy Italian threads, even though I see you’ve been kept well dressed since I’ve been gone.” 

“Oh yes, wait till we go back to the house, there are many new additions I’m sure he’d love to show off for you.” Castiel has bin full of Pug’s clothes that don’t fit that need to be taken for donation and his new clothes are currently all over his room, after he tore through his clothes trunk just this morning. 

“I can’t wait,” Claire says, grinning as everyone digs into the food she brought. 

Ash and Jo are full of questions about Claire’s trip and Castiel is happy to sit back and listen to her tell stories she’s shared with him and Dean already, things about the various museums and cultural sites they saw, along with basic questions about airports and the long plane ride. 

“No planes for me,” Dean confides in Castiel. “Don’t even really like heights.” He keeps his voice low, not wanting to interrupt Claire while she tells Ash and Jo about seeing the Colosseum, along with showing them photos from her phone. 

“Take off and landing are not enjoyable for me,” Castiel muses, deciding he prefers the ground, if he thinks hard enough about it. 

Dean sighs and crumples the foil his now eaten burrito came in. “Miss my car, babe, miss the road. When Sammy got old enough to be on his own more, I used to leave dad at the bar and just hit the road for hours, you know? Easy to forget all the bad shit on the open road.” 

He’s so wistful and it tugs at Castiel’s heart. He takes Dean’s hand in his own. “Maybe next summer, we can rent a car. You can show me the flyover states.” It’s not like he has some huge desire to see Middle America, but he’d sit in a car next to Dean forever if he wanted Castiel to. 

Dean stares at him in wonder, as if Castiel couldn’t have proposed a better idea and he thinks he should start looking up campy roadside attractions for them to seek, knowing Dean would enjoy something silly like that. 

They’ve been staring maybe a bit too long, when Claire clears her throat and it breaks their gazes. 

“Guess some things don’t change,” she comments, her eyes twinkling. “If it’s cool with you guys, I’m gonna walk Pug over to the food stalls. Let him do his business on the way.” 

Castiel nods and after they leave, all their tables get busy. It’s standard for there to be a rush after the lunch hour and he’s kept busy answering questions and giving out his store hours, some of the books people are looking for on his shelves and not part of what he chose to brought out to sell. He frowns as he turns away yet another set of young readers, only third or fourth grade, who come looking for books fit for their age. Considering Castiel sells mostly ( _ true _ ) classical literature, he doesn’t even have a kids section in the store. 

This is the inventory his uncle built and how he made a living and Castiel assumed that would be sufficient for him as well and he never stopped to consider otherwise. Unable to take a moment now to do so, Castiel’s soon roped into one of Dean’s sales after the curious customer asked about the cute pig paintings. Fortunately, Claire chooses then to come back  _ with  _ the pig himself, and Dean sells all the prints in question.

“Barely back five minutes and already making me money,” Dean exclaims, peeling a few bills off his stack and handing them to Claire with a high five. 

She happily takes her cut as she returns his gesture. “Pleasure doing business.” 

Rolling his eyes, Castiel clears his throat. “Would you like to take him back to the house? We’ll be done soon and he’ll be wanting a nap. Then we can go to dinner.” He purposely talks only to Claire and even Dean gets it and busies himself with putting away his money. They decided not to make a big deal out of Dean not joining them, Castiel worried Claire would be disappointed, even if Dean didn’t think so. 

Her frown proves Castiel right and she looks past Castiel. “Dean, are you coming to eat with us? You love Takumi.” 

Castiel tries to stay upbeat. “It will be just us tonight, I thought we could catch up and you could stay, if you’d like.”

“I can’t,” she says offhandedly before doing a double take back at Castiel. “Oh. Well, if that’s what you want.” Claire’s disappointment isn’t hard to miss. It makes his chest ache, but he’d rather Claire be disappointed in  _ him _ and not Dean, considering his reasons. 

“It is,” he replies, giving her a gentle smile and knowing she’ll understand, once they talk more later. He  _ is _ surprised when a hand slides over his shoulder. 

“We’ll get ramen another night, next week, on me,” Dean tells her as he squeezes Castiel’s shoulder. “Gotta go home and get myself pretty again for this one. He won’t stop rolling his eyes at my hat.” He points at his head and Castiel huffs. 

“You’re plenty pretty, even with that hat,” he mutters, getting a laugh huffed in his ear and a kiss behind it for the teasing he endures. 

Claire just rolls her eyes. “Fine. But you owe me, Winchester.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dean replies, bowing his head. Castiel smacks down on the lid of the hat, making Dean grin and twist it around so at least Castiel can see his green eyes properly in the muted light. The sun’s been setting earlier and earlier and they only have about an hour left of proper light to sell by before they’ll need to pack up. 

Dean looks beautiful, hat or no, in the fading daylight. His freckles stand out, scattered across his nose and eyelids and his green eyes are like pieces of peridot in the lingering golden rays and Castiel leans in, just to be a little closer. 

Soon enough, they wave goodbye to Claire and Pug and in the last hour, Dean’s agitation becomes clear and Castiel thinks there may be more to him going back to his house than he’s admitting. He doesn’t get the chance to ask until they’re on their way back to Castiel’s, Dean pulling the wagon with one hand, his other holding Castiel’s and swinging between them. 

“Steady sales today,” Dean comments idly. 

“Is there something wrong?” Castiel blurts out the question before he can stop himself. “We can talk before I go upstairs, if you’d like?” 

Dean’s steps falter for a moment, but he tightens his grip on Castiel’s hand and shakes his head. “I’m fine—” 

“You’re not—” 

“It’s just the same shit, nothing new. Got a text that Bobby’s waitin’ for me at the bar so I’m just gonna go get that over with. Like a bandaid, right?” They arrive back at the house and Dean hauls the wagon inside. “Just enjoy your dinner, don’t worry about me. I’ll call you later, before bed.” Pausing by the door, his smile is weak and barely passable for okay, in Castiel’s opinion, but Dean’s going to go, no matter what he says. 

Sighing, Castiel grabs him by the lapel of his black jacket, and pulls Dean close. “Please do,” he requests, pulling Dean the rest of the way to him for a kiss, one to let Dean know he doesn’t want him to go. Castiel wants to keep him close, keep him from more heartache that Dean’s already resigned himself to. Castiel can see it in the set of his shoulders. 

So he knocks that damn hat off so he can run his fingers through Dean’s hair, making him hum an appreciative sound when he kisses Castiel back. Dean just chuckles when he has to scoop his hat off the floor, kissing Castiel one more time before he’s out the door, promising they’ll talk later. 

Castiel’s barely locked the door behind him when Claire’s interrupting the silence of the closed store. 

“What’s going on with Dean? Is he okay?” 

She’s standing at the bottom of the staircase, hands on her hips. Castiel can only sigh and gesture towards the wagon. “Help me get this inside the office?” 

As they work, he gives her the cliff notes version of Dean’s situation, wanting to respect his privacy and knowing Claire doesn’t need all the details anyway. By the time they get to the restaurant, Claire’s picked up on the gravity of the situation. 

“I'm really sorry he’s going through this,” Claire says, sipping her tea. “I couldn’t imagine—” She cuts herself off with a shake of her head. 

Castiel mimics her and shakes his head sadly, humming in understanding. “Dean is strong,” he assures her. “He’ll get through this, and we’re here to help him.” 

She smiles at that. “So everything’s been going good then?” 

Oh. They’ve come to  _ this  _ portion of the evening. Castiel knew it was inevitable. He takes an extra bite of his ramen before he wipes his mouth and answers Claire’s question. “It’s going great,” he states, unable to hide his smile. “I think we’re very happy together and I think he enjoys staying over.”

Claire claps her hands. “I knew he was sleeping over, I knew it! He was always there whenever I would call!” 

“That’s not true,” he grumbles, although… Claire’s memory is probably better than his. And Dean does stay over a lot. “Either way, thank you for asking.” He has a sudden thought. “Are you—do you mind if he stays over, on the nights you usually stay?” 

They’d discussed this, he and Dean, and Dean’s big concern was making sure Claire was comfortable, after he made a joke about just using Castiel’s ties to keep him quiet. As if Dean’s not just as noisy when they— 

Claire clears her throat and raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?” 

Castiel hides his embarrassment at his wandering thoughts by narrowing his eyes. “I think a loud truck passed by.” 

Snorting, Claire shakes her head. “Yeah, no. I said it’s fine, I sleep with headphones.”

“Well, what made you think that was an appropriate response?” 

Their playful banter makes Castiel realize again how much he’s missed his niece. 

They finish their food and talk more about Claire’s trip and after Castiel pays, they walk arm and arm back through the park, to enjoy one of the last of this summer’s evenings. He wishes Dean and Pug were with them, knowing they’d both be enjoying the cool breeze. 

“So, everything with the store is good? Kevin still jumpy?” 

Castiel smiles. “Kevin is fine, he’s flourishing, actually. He’s about to take over the online sales.” 

“Cool,” Claire muses. They’ve ended up at Donna’s and Castiel realizes he wouldn’t mind a cup of tea right now. Donna and Jody are sitting in the cafe while Alex works and it’s quite a big reunion when they walk inside. Donna scurries behind the counter to make their drinks and she’s halfway when Castiel realizes she’s making a coffee for Dean. 

“Oh, Donna, my apologies, Dean’s not with us tonight.” Castiel hates saying it. Donna’s surprise doesn’t help. 

“Sorry, shouldn’t have assumed.” She keeps making the drink. “Let him know we’re thinkin’ of him, okay?” 

The way she says it, with implication, makes Castiel’s hackles go up but he nods, and smiles politely. “Thank you for everything.” 

She passes over a bag of goodies and some Pug snacks without Castiel asking and he’s humbled by her generosity. It’s likely she spoke to Ellen about the current drama, knowing how close they are and Castiel doubts she meant it in any gossipping way. It would mortify Dean to know his life was the subject of village fodder, and above all, Castiel hopes everyone continues to be discreet. 

Jody gives him a hug with only one of her patented  _ mom _ looks and Castiel thinks he can trust the couple to help him keep Dean safe. He is, after all, on the  _ super _ secret breakfast sandwich list. 

As they walk back, Claire asks more about the bookstore and others in the area. “You would have loved it uncle, there were bookstores on every corner it seemed like. It was driving dad crazy because I wanted to stop at each one.” She grins at him and he smiles back, proud. Claire’s always been an exceptional reader.

“They were so cool too, all the old books with the old buildings. Oh, but the kid’s stores? They were  _ incredible! _ Huge murals painted on the walls, big open spaces for kids to read and play those cool table games.”

They’ve arrived home and Claire won’t stop talking, even as they head up the stairs. Only her voice drops to accommodate a sleeping Pug. 

“There was this one store that was in the same town as the villa dad rented. They had story time a few times a day and I kept going to it.” Claire sounds sheepish but Castiel finds the idea nice. “The owner would read to the neighborhood kids and she had this old cat,” Claire huffs as they enter. “Anytime she read, she wore a fairy hat, you know, one of those pointy ones? Well, she had a tiny one for the cat. That old fat, sleepy thing.”

Castiel laughs as he imagines it. 

“It didn’t even care! She’d prop the hat on its sleeping head and just read and everyone loved it. It was cool.” She drops down on the couch and Castiel follows after having checked on Pug, asleep in his own bed. 

“It sounds like it,” Castiel replies, getting lost in the gaiety of such a carefree thing. Story-time. He tries to imagine Pug with a funny hat to wear during story time and Castiel realizes he’d never be able to settle down, once the kids get involved. He’d be way too excited. 

“Is there any reason you don’t sell kids books?” 

“No,” Castiel answers. “They just weren’t in the inventory. But I do get many inquiries.” He turns away many about young adult literature, along with current kids books. His is one of two bookstores in the village and neither of them specialize in children's books. 

He wonders outloud if Claire took any photos of the things she’s describing and Castiel should have known she’d have plenty. They look at the pictures and the idea grows, quiet at first, and then outspoken enough for Castiel to wonder what it would take to change the entire theme of his store when he hasn’t even been open for six months. 

It’s likely he’s getting ahead of himself. 

Castiel makes some mental notes to google a few things in the next few days, anyway. 

The rest of their night is quiet, after Pug’s fashion show to flaunt all his new clothes, imported from Italy. Claire brought him many colorful onesies but Castiel’s favorite is a blue and purple button up flannel that he already knows Dean will like too, considering all the plaid he wears. It will be perfect for the cooler days that are soon to be coming to the Village. 

Pug’s favorite piece is a little faux leather jacket, because of course it is. Castiel can’t help but imagine him riding a tiny little motorcycle and the thought makes him laugh. He snaps a picture for Dean, but decides he’d rather have Dean see Pug in his new clothes here, versus in a photo. He still sends Dean a text, letting him know they’re home for the night, and that Castiel’s thinking of him. Not hearing from Dean all night has him on edge, considering it’s usually non-stop texts between them when they’re apart. 

Either way, he tries not to think about it when he and Pug walk Claire back to the subway. Castiel wishes she were staying, but registration for Senior year is tomorrow and Jimmy is taking her to her private academy first thing in the morning. Classes don't start for another week and Claire has plans to spend time at Castiel's, wanting to work down in the store a bit. Castiel's thrilled about that, thinking they could look into the children's store idea together. 

Wishing her luck getting her classes, Castiel pulls a straining Pug away from the subway stairs, the pig eager to follow his cousin. She waves and Castiel waves back before she's gone. 

He soothes Pug's whines with a calming hand on his back, letting him snuggle into his chest. "Shh baby, Claire won't be gone so long this time," he promises as they head home. 

Still not having heard from Dean, Castiel moves around his apartment, idly dusting his shelves as Pug plays in his blankets, Castiel casting long looks at his phone sitting silent on the table. He tried to call Dean on the way home and his call went straight to voicemail.

Castiel is trying not to worry. 

He tries as he finishes his tea and he tries through his entire shower, even trying when he decides to bring Pug to bed with him. Because if all else fails, he's got his favorite friend to snuggle. 

His chest aches with how badly he misses Dean. 

And Dean never calls.

Castiel stayed up staring at his phone for much longer than he’d care to admit, but it just sat silently, teasing him once when it lit up around three in the morning, but only to alert Castiel that the battery was fully charged. 

He falls asleep after the adrenaline wears off and after he's confirmed Dean hasn't sent him a message he might have just missed. 

He didn't. 

Castiel would hardly call what he got sleep, but he still wakes before Pug. Thinking he’s going to need an entire pot of tea to even get out the door, Castiel goes to fill his kettle, yawning as he flips up the tap and hangs the handle on it to fill. 

He's so damn tired he almost forgets to check his phone and he's rushing back to his room when he hears a scuffle from the other side of the front door. Stopping in his tracks, Castiel listens, waits to hear the sound again because he's not sure he really heard anything. 

Until the sound happens again, followed by a thud. 

Grabbing his baseball bat from the closet, Castiel holds it low at his side as he tries to unlock the door as quietly as he can. If someone thinks they're going to try to rob him, they're in for a surprise. 

Door unlocked, Castiel cracks it open, until the stairs come into focus in the low light.

Castiel drops the baseball bat and it rolls noisily across the hardwood. 

Dean's there, slumped in the stairwell and the only thing in his hands is a bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey.


	18. Chapter 18

Castiel can’t stop the gasp that flies from his mouth. 

The bottle is between Dean's crossed legs and his hands are wrapped around it. Castiel can’t tell if it’s been opened or drank from, but none of that matters right now. Unable to think of anything else, Castiel rushes to Dean’s side, dropping to his knees to cover Dean's hands with his own. 

“Dean,” he says urgently, and bloodshot, tear filled green eyes look up at him and Castiel’s heart beats wildly as he takes in Dean’s newly split lip. He swears softly and Dean’s eyes widen. “Come on, come inside, please.” 

Dean doesn’t fight Castiel when he pulls the horrible bottle out of his shaking hands, trying to will his own to stop. Dean just stares at their emptiness now. He’s wearing the same clothes Castiel last saw him in, however somewhere along the way, he lost his hat. Castiel can only hope it came off at home because he knows it’s one of Dean’s favorites. 

“I didn’t know where to go,” he admits as Castiel pulls him to his feet, and he sounds so sorry, all Castiel can do is hold him. 

“You are always safe here,” Castiel reassures him, over and over as Dean trembles. “And I’ll watch over you,” he promises, meaning it, unconditionally.

Dean rears back, pressing himself against the wall and Castiel can see that he’s hanging on by a thread. There are ominous circles under his eyes and they’re so haunted, they make Castiel feel lost too. 

“My dad died, Cas,” he whispers and Castiel has to move fast to close their distance, Dean swaying hard on his feet but crumpling into him when Castiel wraps him in his arms. 

He loses track of how long he holds Dean there, in the slowly lightening stairwell, the dawn beginning to fill the store below and make its way to them. 

How long Dean cries isn’t of import either. 

Castiel just holds him, whispering his condolences while he rubs Dean’s back and runs fingers through his hair, just wanting Dean to feel all of his love. He doesn’t even notice he’s humming until Dean huffs a wet laugh into the curve of his neck where he’s been hiding. 

“Are you humming ABBA at me?”

“Hmm?” Castiel’s melody turns into a question. “Was I?” He thinks about it and hums a few bars of the song. 

“ _ Take a Chance on Me _ ,” Dean states, like it was obvious. Castiel barely realized he was doing it, let alone what song it was. 

He shrugs. “It’s catchy.”

“It’s not.” Dean shakes his head with an almost smile, and he’s standing upright now but his hands tighten where he’s holding Castiel’s arms when he looks down to see the offending bottle, still sitting on the edge of the stairs. 

His silence roars between them. 

“Let’s go inside,” Castiel asks again, gently. It feels like any wrong move could spook Dean and getting him safely inside is Castiel’s priority. Dean only hesitates for a moment before he’s letting Castiel lead him and to say Castiel’s relieved would be an understatement. 

Closing the door behind them, Castiel hears water running and realizes he left the sink on, the kettle now overflowing. Dean doesn’t let go of his hand when Castiel goes to turn it off. His mind races with things he needs to take care of but first, he wants to get Dean cleaned up and comfortable. 

Leaving the kettle in the sink, Castiel wraps his fingers around Dean’s wrists. “How about a shower?”

Dean sighs. “I took all my clothes back…” He trails off, his voice small. 

“That’s okay, I’ll put clothes out for you, don’t worry about that.” Lacing their fingers together, he guides Dean through the bedroom, thankful Pug is still asleep in bed (but knowing that won’t last). He reaches past the shower curtain to turn on the faucet and when he turns back, Dean’s standing still, staring down at his feet. 

“Dean?” 

He’s in a complete daze and Castiel wonders if this is what shock looks like. He carefully takes Dean’s hand and places it on his hip, something for Dean to hold while Castiel strips him. Dean’s fingers dig into his side. 

“It’s all right,” Castiel murmurs, keeping his voice only loud enough to hear over the shower. Slowly, he strips Dean of his layers, leaving only his t-shirt before Castiel opens his belt, using quick fingers to open the button and pull down the zipper. He moves gently, his hands often ghosting over Dean’s, or touching him on his chest. When he needs to remove Dean’s shoes, he guides Dean’s hand up to his shoulder where it can stay while he leans down in front of him. 

Dean steadies himself that way when Castiel opens his boots and pulls them off to reveal Dean’s socks, this pair with the same dog’s face printed all over them. Castiel huffs when he sees them. 

“That’s Shasta,” Dean says softly. “Her mom gave them to me for Christmas, way to say thank you for walking her, you know?” 

Castiel pulls the socks off with care. "She looks sweet." 

“A lot of my clients give me gifts, stuff like that. Stuff  _ for _ dogs, which is weird? Um, some of them give me cash, that’s awesome…” 

Dean’s rambling some now, but it’s better than the dreadful silence that was sitting between them, Castiel sure it could drown them both if given the chance. He loves talking about his dog’s so Castiel lets him as he strips Dean the rest of the way. 

He leaves Dean’s shirt for last, and even still Dean stops him. 

“I—I’ll get it.” He doesn’t meet Castiel’s eye.

“Of course, Dean. I’m going to step down to the store for a moment, but I can be right up in a flash if you need me.” Castiel turns to go but again, Dean stops him, this time cupping a hand to Castiel’s cheek. 

"Why haven't you asked me if I drank from that bottle?" Dean's voice is raw with honesty, and trepidation at the answer. 

"Because it doesn't change anything." Castiel can be honest too. 

Dean's face crumples and sorrow threatens to choke Castiel when Dean presses trembling lips to his, both of them cautious of Dean's injury. “Don’t go too far?” 

“Never,” Castiel whispers making Dean kiss him again, firmer, lips still warm, still meant for him. 

He hates walking out of the bathroom but he does it anyway, knowing Dean needs his privacy but meaning to check on him often. Dean doesn’t lock the bathroom door behind him, so Castiel takes that as a good sign. He has no clue how Pug is sleeping through this, but he crosses everything that it remains for at least a little longer until he can let Dean lay in his place in bed. 

Castiel hustles around, setting the kettle to boil and preparing their drinks. It’s Kevin’s day off so Castiel’s going to close the store and he scribbles out a makeshift sign that cites a family emergency, hurrying out the door with a plan to tape it to the front door. 

He stops short when he sees the bottle. 

Castiel doesn’t want to touch it just as badly as he wants to kick it down the stairs. He wants to throw it against the wall and watch it shatter into a million pieces so he can curse each one for being such an evil temptation. 

Instead, he ignores it, the thought of even touching the thing making Castiel want to throw up. 

He tries not to think about it sitting at the top of the stairs as he tapes the sign to the door and and texts Kevin, just to let him know that the store is closed, and might be again tomorrow. Kevin texts back that he hopes all is well and Castiel appreciates him.

He also texts Claire the news, but asks her to keep it in the family. Not that he thinks she might say something, but better to be safe, knowing she's close with Alex and Jo. Castiel is sure Jo knows… but even thinking about all these particulars is making his head hurt. Claire sends back a string of heart emojis and asks if Castiel wants her to come watch Pug, which Castiel thanks her for, but declines. 

Dean needs privacy and Pug will bring them both comfort in the coming days. 

Castiel promises that he'll call Claire tonight. 

The kettle is whistling a low hum and Castiel rushes over to remove it. The shower is off so before he makes their drinks, he wants to check to see if Dean needs anything.

Pushing open the bedroom door presents Castiel with the sweetest scene he's ever encountered, even in these grave times. 

Dean's out of the shower, and in the grey sweats Castiel left out, his feet and chest bare. He's lying on his side, his beautiful tattoo on display because Dean's curled on his side towards the middle of the bed with Pug pressed against his bare chest. 

They're both sound asleep. 

It's obvious Dean hasn't slept and Castiel wonders what the hell went down after Dean left here. Whatever it was resulted in a split lip and Castiel knows he saw an injury on Dean's hand as well. He makes it a point to draw the curtains closed so Dean can sleep in the darkness and it's not like Castiel  _ means _ to fall asleep too, but the temptation to crawl in and cuddle his two loves is just too hard to resist. 

The three of them make a cocoon of warmth and soft snores and tangled legs, Pug content to flip around between them, the sweet, lazy thing, Castiel not at all surprised that he doesn’t mind the lay in. 

He’s still the one that wakes them, the darkness keeping them sleeping late into the morning. Castiel discovered Dean quite early and he’s not upset that they seemed to have slept away the last few hours. Pug pokes his nose anywhere he can and Dean wakes up huffing and pushing that nose out of the curve of his neck, his eyes blinking open as he rolls his head over to look at Castiel. His hesitant, small smile is still gorgeous and he finds Castiel’s hand under the blankets. 

“You don’t have to get up,” Castiel whispers, wanting Dean to stay, sleep more. He knows how badly he needs it, the circles under his eyes untouched by how much they slept. 

“Do you,” he asks, before he seems to understand that it’s not Castiel that needs to get up. Pug pushes between them and tries to get under Castiel’s pillow as a reminder that yes, he does need to go outside. 

Leaning up and submitting his pillow to the pig, Castiel leans in to brush his lips to Dean’s. “We can be very quick. Is there anything you need before we go down?” 

Dean responds by wrapping his arms around Castiel and pulling him down for a sleepy, slow kiss, Dean’s lip already scabbing. Castiel kisses around it, leaving his last one on the edge of Dean’s mouth. 

“Can I borrow your phone?” His question is quiet, ashamed, and Castiel wonders what happened to his but he doesn’t ask, instead just unplugging his from its charger to hand over to Dean. 

“Call whoever you need to and I’ll bring back some coffee.” 

“Tea?”

Castiel’s halfway out of bed when he stops and turns, surprised. “Did you have one in mind?” 

Dean’s eyes dart down. “Maybe that uh, minty one? Throat’s a little sore.” 

Castiel’s shoulder’s drop. “Of course… honey?” 

“Yes, dear?” 

Castiel looks back to see Dean cracking a small smile and it makes him think for the first time that they’ll get past this and maybe even come out okay. He brushes faded orange hair off Dean’s forehead before he places a kiss there, Dean’s eyes closing heavily. 

They breathe together for a minute before a demanding pig who has made his way off the bed so he can scratch at the door interrupts them with his hollering. 

“He’s mad at you,” Dean tells him, snuggling back down into the sheets as Castiel gets out of them. 

He digs a navy blue hoodie out of one drawer before he pulls it over his bare chest, clicking his tongue at his naughty pet. “Come on, you know not to scratch. It won’t make anyone move any faster.” 

Pug blinks at him, staring expectantly until Castiel sighs and opens the door. A chuckle from the bed makes him roll his eyes and hide his smile. Looking back at the bed before looking at Castiel, Pug seems confused as to why Dean isn’t coming, before a little nudge from Castiel has him hustling out the door. 

“Be right back,” Castiel promises, shutting the bedroom door to give Dean privacy for whoever he has to call. Pug finishes drinking water as Castiel pulls his shoes on, wrestling the pig into his harness so he can carry him downstairs. 

He doesn’t give the bottle of whiskey a glance. 

Castiel makes quick work of their walk too, taking Pug to the nearest patch large enough for him to sniff, although he doesn’t seem happy about not getting all the way to the park. Castiel wonders about Dean’s dogs but he can’t dwell when, before they can make it back inside, he’s called to attention from the patio next door.

“Oh sweetie bird,” Rowena calls him and he stops, clenching his jaw some, not wanting to be rude but really wanting to get back upstairs. 

“Good morning Rowena,” he says, turning on his charm to the best of his ability. 

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Now don’t hurt yourself, I don’t want to  _ keep _ you, I just want to give you this.” Handing over a small satchel, she taps his wrist as he takes it. “Burn the sage this evening, at the changing of the light, and slip those little bags under your pillows when you get upstairs, especially under your sweet man’s.” Her eyes narrow and Castiel swears they flash purple, but it’s been a weird morning. “I’ve already done some spell work to ward off any negative energy and Goddess knows, if anyone would find a way to extend their rotten energy from beyond, it would be John Winchester.” 

Castiel’s eyes widen. 

“I never had the pleasure,” she goes on. “But it’s a shame, he would have made a lovely toad.” Her smile turns calculating and for the millionth time, Castiel can’t believe he lives next door to a witch and furthermore, he can’t believe how much he appreciates her. 

He leans closer so she can pet Pug, bowing his head in thanks. “Any other tips?”

“If you have salt, it wouldn’t hurt to line the windows and doors.” She laughs at whatever Castiel’s face is doing. “Aye, I’m only joking lad. Mostly.” She nods wisely at the bag. “That should be all you need. Bring the bags back to me in a day or so and I’ll refresh their spells.” 

Castiel nods, looking down at Pug to make sure he’s getting all this. Rowena tucks a sprig of something leafy under his collar. 

“Nettle,” she states. “A wee bit more protection for my wee little babe.” She scuffs under his chin and he kisses her fingers. “Now get upstairs and take care of our friend. The village is counting on you.” 

Rowena says it lightly enough, but she does glance out towards the street and Castiel notices that a few of their neighbors are out, looking towards them and a few wave and nod and it’s amazing the impact one person can have on so many people. Castiel nods back to them, and to Rowena, and he’s about to go through the door when he sees Ash hurrying down the street towards his store. 

He lets a squirming Pug inside as Rowena slips away, and the street returns to normal, the moment past. Castiel can hear him clattering up the stairs and he’s on edge, hoping not to hear any breaking glass when he realizes his error in putting Pug down. 

He needs to move that fucking thing. 

The only sound is the upstairs door creaking open and Castiel’s relieved. Turning to greet Ash, he sees that his hands are full and his expression harried. He dumps the duffles he’s carrying at Castiel’s feet. 

“Ok, tell Dean that’s everything I think and to text me if I missed anything.” Ash tucks a phone into the pocket of Castiel’s hoodie. “That’s all set up like he likes and the GPS is  _ off, _ if you know what I mean.”

Castiel blinks at him. 

Ash levels his gaze. “No one knows he’s here, Dean made me swear. Tell him I’m gonna get my ass kicked for this by Bobby,” he swallows noisily but squares his thin shoulders. “But I’ll do it for my buddy. You call me too, you guys need anything from the outside.” 

Grinning, Ash looks down at his haul. “Dean said to leave these here and split so check,” he points down at the bags. “And check.” He points towards the road and turns to go. “I got some dogs to walk.”

“Ash, thank you,” Castiel says to his back, relieved Dean has a friend willing to be so good to him. 

“Dudes my best friend. I’d die for that guy so I think I can smuggle him some supplies.” Ash’s raw honesty takes Castiel aback, but he respects him for it. Nodding, Ash almost goes. “You’re a good guy, Cas. Be good to Dean, too.” 

“I will,” Castiel vows, proud to take mantel next to a friend like Ash. “Please feel free to text me, if need be.” 

“Will do, boss.” He’s gone with a wave, and Castiel’s alone on the patio. 

Sighing, he picks up the heavy bags, wondering what Dean asked Ash to bring him but relieved that Ash is taking care of the dog walking duties. He wonders if he’ll be back for Pug later. 

Dean’s asleep again when Castiel gets upstairs and he hurries around to make their tea and get Pug out of his harness, the sprig of nettle falling out. Castiel doesn’t hesitate to tuck it back in and take Rowena’s advice about the small leather pouches she gave him, setting the bundle of sage (according to the hand-written note tied to it, with burning instructions) on top of the fridge until the sun sets. Her words about Dean’s father ring in his ears and he can’t help but listen a little harder for anything unusual, the only thing out of place being Dean’s soft snores in the middle of the morning. 

He tucks a satchel in the folds of the couch and carefully tucks the others under their pillows, Dean just rolling over with a grunt when Castiel pushes one under his. Castiel makes quick work of cleaning up Dean’s clothes still on the bathroom floor and rescuing his wallet from his jeans, leaving it on Dean’s nightstand along with the cell phone Ash dropped off.

Castiel’s about to leave the room again when a hand sneaks out of the blankets to catch him by the wrist. 

“You’ve been gone too long,” Dean states from under the blankets where he’s burrowed himself. 

“Ash stopped by.” 

It’s enough to get Dean to peak out at him. His eyes are still bloodshot and exhausted but interested. “He had my stuff?” 

“Two bags, I was about to bring them in next. Cell phone is already there.” Nodding towards the nightstand, Castiel also lifts the heap of clothes tucked in his arm. “I’m going to run these downstairs and then we’ll both come settle in, if that’s okay?” 

Dean blinks a few times and Castiel takes that as acknowledgement. Hurrying now, he grabs a plastic bag from under the sink and—dreadfully—grabs the bottle of alcohol with his hand inside the bag so Castiel doesn’t have to touch it and he can take it down to the basement and leave it there, as far away from Dean as possible. 

Ignoring the stacks of boxes still unopened, Castiel tucks the offensive thing behind a broken desk and, determined to forget about it, he goes about starting a load of laundry, adding a few of his items and Pug’s shirts that are down in the basket. Looking around, he thinks he needs to come down here and clean this space up. It’s the part of the building he’s ignored the longest and it’s become somewhat of a catchall for everything and anything Castiel wants to get out of the way. Chuck’s boxes take up the most space so those should be at the top of the list. 

Sighing, he closes the lid to the washer and wipes his hands, leaving the light on before he goes back upstairs. If Castiel’s being honest, he’s worried about Dean. He’s trying to make himself busy enough not to be, but thinking of the endless number of things that could have happened in the last twelve hours is stressing him out. He just wants to hold Dean and help him forget it all, but he knows how impossible that’s going to be. 

Castiel’s surprised when he heads back inside, only to find Dean sitting on the floor against the couch, playing fetch with Pug. He’s wrapped in the navy comforter from the bed and his hair is barely orange and so fluffy and soft that it makes Castiel’s hands itch and his heart skip.

“What did you do with it?”

He freezes at Dean’s question. “Do you really want to know?” 

Dean blinks, and shakes his head, like he didn’t consider that. “N--no, actually.” His shoulders relax a fraction. “I don’t.” 

“Good. You won’t see it again.” He goes to the kitchen to refresh the kettle and prep their cups. “Are you hungry? I can make us something to eat or—” 

“Cas, can you just come sit?” 

Instead of setting up the kettle, Castiel does what he’s told, leaving everything behind. Before he can decide where to sit, Dean opens one arm and the blanket and all Castiel can do is drop in beside him. It sure pleases Pug, the little pig squealing to see them both on the ground with him, a real treat in his little eyes. 

“You’re fluttering around like a bird.” Dean wraps Castiel in the blanket with him and he leans in to nuzzle Dean’s throat. 

Huffing, Castiel rubs his cheek against Dean’s skin. He didn’t shave this morning and he knows Dean enjoys his scruff. “My apologies, I just want to help.” 

“I know,” he replies quietly. “Thank you.” Kisses get dropped into his hair and Castiel stays there, only responsible for making sure his hands are on Dean at all times, rubbing the soft skin of his belly and sides, not hesitating when he brushes Dean’s scar, only caressing him with love and reverent touches. 

Castiel doesn’t falter as Dean tells him what happened after they parted ways yesterday at the market. 

Dean was expecting Bobby to be waiting for him when he arrived at The Roadhouse, but he wasn’t expecting Sam, Sam with the news that their father had passed away the night before in a small hospital somewhere outside of Philadelphia. Less than a hundred miles away. It chills Castiel to the core to know that he was so close to Dean when he died. 

Sam was angry, he’d just arrived back to New York after he drove alone all night to Philly to handle all the details, named next of kin by John after their accident, Dean had found out. He also learned that this, and the fact that John was so close was known to all of them, Bobby, Ellen, even Jo… everyone except Dean. It was why they were pushing so hard for them to talk.

“Everyone fuckin’ knew,” he whispers, the betrayal clear as he mindlessly tosses Pug’s toy. “They all decided I was better off not knowing until he was dyin’.” Castiel could choke on Dean’s bitterness. “Who gets to decide that for me? That’s bullshit. If I knew—” His head drops back to the couch cushion with a sigh and Castiel doesn’t stop stroking his skin. 

“Sam said I should have stowed my shit and showed up, that I should have been there.” A heavy hand goes through his hair and he shakes his head. “He says none of my stupid bullshit even matters now and the least I could have done is been there for dad at the end. Can you believe that? He thought  _ I _ needed to be there for  _ him.”  _

Castiel presses his lips to Dean’s shoulder and shakes his head, eyes focused on the line of his strong jaw, Dean’s own stubble starting. “From what you’ve said, Sam didn’t suffer the same abuses as you did, at the hands of your father.”

Dean’s head comes back up. “Fuck no,” he swears, one hand slicing the air. “I protected that kid, took all dad’s shit—you know one time, we got evicted from some shitbag motel because dad didn’t pay and you know, that was  _ my _ fault and instead of helping me pack, he beat the shit out of me and told me to have everything done by three so I wouldn’t be late to pick Sam up from school.” Bile rises in Castiel’s throat. “Told Sam some asshole tried to jump me. Helped him not care so much that we were movin’ again.” 

Crushed under the weight of these memories, Castiel finds solace in trailing soft kisses up Dean’s throat and to the curve of his jaw and across it, pausing to nose at the soft place behind his ear. 

Dean closes his eyes tight when Castiel begins to whisper. “You did your very best, Dean, with the circumstances you were given. You were a  _ child _ and it was not your responsibility to be anything more than that, but that’s not you, to wait for someone else to step up.” Castiel offers benediction with his words, soft kisses scattered between them. “You were strong then, and you are  _ more _ than strong now.” 

“How can you say that, I was too scared to go, too chicken shit to see him again, to even talk to him? And I hate that he’s in here, you know? Up in my head all the damn time, telling me I ain’t shit, that my art sucks… that I’m not good enough for you.” 

The last thing cracks Castiel in half, he can feel himself shattering even as he denies those words, to prove them wrong by any means. “Lies, it’s all lies, you’re enough, you’re more than enough Dean, more than I—than we ever expected.” 

Dean pulls him tighter and Castiel sits up straighter so he can press their foreheads together, noses brushing. 

“You are everything to us, Dean. Everything wonderful, and magical, and colorful in our lives and without you—” Castiel shudders at the thought. “I don’t want to consider how dull it would be here without you.” 

Pug’s given up on fetch and has climbed high enough to kiss Dean under his chin, like he concurs with all Castiel is saying. 

“He really loves you,” Castiel tells him, Dean’s face relaxing a fraction. “But not as much as I love you, even if you warned me not to.”

Dean’s eyes widen but he softens when he can see how open and honest Castiel’s being, his confession meant to heal, to comfort, to let Dean know he isn’t alone and doesn’t need to be ever again. 

He reaches up to cup Castiel’s neck, his thumb brushing the underside of Castiel’s jaw with reverence. “Didn’t know how bad a listener you were then,” Dean tries to tease, his voice shaking through his attempt to be light-hearted but Castiel can see that he’s desperately trying to hold it together, the unshed tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. 

“Yes, I have a tendency to be quite recalcitrant.” Castiel replies before he kisses Dean, soft at first until Dean kisses back, kisses Castiel harder as they clutch at each other, Pug still nosing at their necks. He says it over and over between kisses,  _ I love you _ , presses each word as a reminder into Dean’s velvety skin, leaving his vow behind. 

Dean whispers his name in response, each utterance heavy with words he doesn’t say. It tugs at him but it’s also unimportant, Dean needing Castiel to be the strong one right now. If Castiel is sure of anything, it’s that Dean cares for him, for them, very deeply. 

It’s Dean that breaks their connection first, rubbing their scruff together with a heavy sigh before they pull apart. Pug’s between them, blinking at them with sleepy eyes and Dean rubs a knuckle between them. The pig’s eyes flutter shut, and stay that way, both men watching his nose twitch as he falls asleep wrapped in their love. 

“Would it be okay if I stayed here, take a few days to get my head straight? I’m so fuckin’ tired, Cas, I don’t want to think about this shit anymore and everyone is gonna want me to talk about it.” 

“You don’t have to ask Dean, stay as long as you want,” Castiel assures him, wanting to strike out all the apprehension and shame in Dean’s voice from requesting something Castiel would never decline. And if Dean wants to keep his privacy, Castiel can help with that. 

Dean’s relief is clear and that makes Castiel feel somewhat better. 

“Let me take him to his room.” He goes to get up but they’ve been sitting on the ground so long, everything hurts and Castiel’s groan almost wakes up the sleeping pig. Dean’s hiding a small grin at his discomfort and Castiel rolls his eyes and nudges Dean with his foot. Dean just stares up at him with soft eyes as Castiel gathers Pug in his arms. 

“Were you ready for that tea now?” Dean asks, clear it’s him that’s ready.

Castiel can’t help but smile at him fondly. “I am,” he replies. “I’ll be right back.” 

When he returns, it’s to Dean making their drinks, the comforter around his shoulders and brushing the ground and his bare feet. The late morning sun is filling the kitchen and shining through his orange hair, sticking up in a way that reminds Castiel of upside down candy corn, the way it’s fading. It also reminds Castiel that fall is coming, and he wonders how Dean feels about Halloween. 

“Hey, Cas, do we have anymore cereal?”

Dean’s voice tugs him out of his daydreams of changing leaves and carving pumpkins and shaking his head clear, Castiel joins him. “I moved it to a container, after you opened it a few days ago,” he advises, checking the temperature on the stove. 

Dean swats at him as he goes to the pantry. “That’s fine, leave it.” 

“I know,” Castiel huffs. “I always double check.” 

“Yeah, yeah, wanna share?” Victorious in finding his beloved Captain Crunch, Dean already has a bowl out and is pouring a very generous portion, two spoons already on the breakfast tray. 

Castiel just smiles and hums non-committedly. Since Dean has taken care of everything, Castiel doesn’t have much else to do besides watch him move around the kitchen, peering into the pantry when he puts the cereal away, and checking the fridge. 

“We can call for an order, if there’s food you’d like to have.” 

“Yeah, I have a few dinner ideas, might as well earn my keep, right? When’s the kid coming back?”

Dean’s trying so hard to sound casual, normal,  _ fine _ and it’s so obvious he’s not. His voice trembles and he’s pacing in the tiny space. Castiel stops him on the next turn. 

“You don’t have to worry about any of that.” Sliding his hand up, Castiel rests it on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing him slightly.

“I gotta do something,” Dean insists and Castiel has an idea that Dean might be interested in. 

“Kiss me, then.” 

“What?” 

“Kiss me. We have to wait for this water to boil and you know what they say about watched pots—” 

Dean  _ finally _ cuts Castiel off with a sweet kiss, wrapping Castiel in the comforter he’s wearing and spinning them so Dean can rest against the counter with Castiel in his arms. Their bare chests brush together and Castiel’s hands wander around to slide up and down Dean’s strong back while they kiss. There’s no heat behind it, just the two of them enjoying each other’s touch and finding comfort in each other’s arms.

Even as the kettle begins its low hum, they stay as close as possible, Castiel turning in Dean’s arms so he can pour the hot water in, Dean plastering himself against Castiel’s body, his chin hooking over his shoulder, his arms around Castiel’s waist, his hands, on Castiel’s stomach. 

Cuddly. Cuddly with a side of heavy sighs but those end once they settle back on the couch to share breakfast and drink their tea and Dean plays his tapes and rests his head in Castiel’s lap while they talk about anything, everything, avoiding the important things for the time being. There’s plenty of time for those later. 

Dean confirms that Ash can pick up Pug for his walk but he stays upstairs when Castiel slips downstairs to send him off, Pug making sad whimpers when Dean doesn’t come with them, and they worsen when Dean never comes down. Castiel tries to soothe him, but they’re both so disjointed, Ash finds them both melancholy when he knocks on the store window. 

At least Pug cheers up some when he sees its Ash there to take him out and that helps Castiel keep it together. Dean’s no better when Castiel gets back upstairs. The couch has been abandoned and Dean’s back in bed and under the blankets. Castiel doesn’t hesitate to crawl in with him and he makes Dean the little spoon, slipping a knee through his legs. 

“My dude’s mad at me, huh?” 

Castiel hums, busy peppering kisses along the back of Dean’s neck and wanting him to not sound so miserable. “He makes that noise when I don’t refill his water fast enough, so I doubt it.” 

Dean scoffs. “Asshole.” His lighter tone makes Castiel grin against his neck and Dean turns in his embrace. “He was okay though, when you sent him off with Ash?” He asks so earnestly, Castiel knows he’s truly worried. 

“Ash was already slipping him treats,” Castiel assures him, making the crease between Dean’s brows deepen.

He’s already turning back to his phone. “I told him not too many treats.” 

Huffing, Castiel drags him back to face him again. “He wasn’t, Pug was fine, please don’t worry.” He nuzzles into Dean’s throat to appease his pout. “Thank you for making sure he’d be taken care of though, I appreciate that.” 

“You better,” he mutters, pulling Castiel tighter to him and rubbing his nose into his hair. “You sure this is okay? Closing the store and all that. I don’t wanna cause problems.” 

“You know I like to play hooky with you,” Castiel says lightly, not wanting Dean to worry about any of these things. It’s all so inconsequential right now. “And Monday’s are Kevin’s day off anyway. It would have been me, dusting shelves and books that aren’t selling. All very boring stuff.” Leaning up, Castiel kisses the underside of Dean’s chin, loving the prickle of his stubble and making Dean swallow thickly. “This is much better, if I’m being quite honest.” 

“Yeah?” Dean’s breathless question emboldens Castiel to make his kisses open mouthed as he makes his way slowly down his throat. “I—I told Ash to take the long way around the park.” 

“The long way?” Castiel’s voice is a growl, getting caught up in his want for the man he’s wrapped around.

“We have an hour,” Dean replies, groaning when Castiel hitches his knee up to press between his thighs as he sucks at Dean’s collarbone, intent to make Dean feel good, to help him forget about things, to hear him moan Castiel’s name. 

Maybe they both need to not think about things for a while.

So they make the most of their hour and then they make the most of Pug’s next nap time and there’s a desperate edge to things every time they end up in bed, like Dean’s trying to memorize everything. The way he searches for answers in Castiel’s eyes makes Castiel hope above all that Dean finds whatever it is he’s looking for. 

Castiel tries not to hover too much throughout the day, but Dean asks him to resume his normal routine as best he can, letting Castiel know he just wants to be alone, to draw and essentially, mourn, even if he doesn’t outright say it. Dean’s been living with the ghost of his father hovering over him for so long, even Rowena’s magic doesn’t seem to be able to protect him from his sorrow. 

The next day, Castiel opens for business as usual. He  _ wants _ to stay closed and upstairs with Dean, but he all but pushed Castiel out of bed this morning with a joke to “make him some money.” When they return from their walk, Dean is asleep so Castiel slips into his usual routine, trying to stay quiet while he showers and makes his tea and Pug’s breakfast, pausing outside the bedroom door until he hears Dean’s soft snores. He’s getting more than his usual four hours and that pleases Castiel. 

He still flips his  _ Open  _ sign with a sigh when he gets downstairs.

Business is quiet. A few customers come in, people who had been there the day before and found the store closed, along with a few students looking for textbooks and yet another mom with her two kids hoping Castiel has a children’s section they can browse. He gets the names and phone numbers of the students for Kevin to contact but he has to turn the family away and he loathes to do it. 

Pug sleeps away most of the morning downstairs with him and sometime around ten, Castiel hears Dean moving around above, movement which includes a shower and the smell of coffee drifting down the stairs. When Castiel’s wondering if Dean made any extra hot water so he can fix another cup of tea, the man himself makes an appearance, the shop feeling instantly brighter, the morning birds chirping a little louder outside.

And of course, Dean’s holding a fresh cup of tea for Castiel in one hand. 

He tastes like mint from his toothpaste when he kisses Castiel hello, but the dark circles under Dean’s eyes haven’t budged. He doesn’t linger either, just hands off Castiel’s drink with a few kisses and nuzzles before he looks over the new release shelf. Apparently not seeing anything he likes, Dean scoops a sleeping Pug out of his bed and takes him back upstairs with one more parting kiss. He even takes Castiel’s empty mug and Castiel wonders if Dean knows how good he is, how easy goodness comes from him. 

Pug comes down alone around the same time Ash arrives to pick him up and he has a few bags of groceries he hands off in trade with a shrug and a pointed look upstairs. Dean’s back down before Ash and Pug are even off the patio, taking his food but coming right back with lunch—grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato rice soup.

It’s delicious. 

“I had everything for you to make all this?” Castiel is shocked but impressed by his own pantry as Dean nods around his bite. 

“Guess all that shopping at Garth’s is payin’ off.” 

“And having you here.” 

Dean blushes and shakes his head, stuffing his mouth with a big bite of toasted bread and melted cheese. ‘S’not like it’s hard, just throw all the stuff in and let it cook.”

“Well the store has smelled delicious for the last hour, so thank you,” Castiel replies, leaning in to brush their lips together, Dean tasting of salt and humility. They’re sharing the large couch Castiel has in the middle of the store that’s surrounded by a few armchairs, a quiet place for his customers to read or work. Their lunch is spread out on the round coffee table that the chairs are grouped around.

“Made enough for dinner, if you want,” he mumbles before grabbing another triangle of grilled cheese and stuffing it in his mouth. 

“I’d enjoy that very much,” Castiel answers, already looking forward to more soup later. 

They eat in silence for a while, only interrupted by a customer, a paying customer much to Castiel’s relief and they’re both scraping the bottom of their bowls when Dean speaks again. 

“It was my mom’s recipe, this soup.” He’s quiet, he always is in the random occasions he speaks of his mother. Dean was only four when she passed away and it scarred him deeply, irreparably, Castiel sometimes thinks. 

Castiel doesn’t remember his own mother. He doesn’t even have a picture of her. The death of his parents was an absolutely forbidden topic in their household growing up with Chuck and their absence has just… always been there, an empty space in Castiel’s life that he’s always lived with and one he has no idea how to fill. He hates to have this in common with Dean, in their own ways. 

Dean goes on, his gaze unfocused on the street outside. “Bobby gave me a few of her things, after I got sober. I guess there was a box in some storage my dad didn’t pay the bill on and Bobby ended up cleaning it out, found a bunch of our shit from our—our old house.” 

Castiel’s eyebrows go up. 

“There were some recipe cards, a few photos, a baby blanket, a little ugly glass angel she probably got at some yard sale… shit like that, you know?” Dean talks about each thing like its precious and Castiel supposes any piece of his mother must be. “Bobby had that stuff for years but said I was too messed up to take care of it.” Dean shakes his head like he can shake his thoughts free. “It’s like people have been making my decisions for me forever, you know?” 

Not knowing what to say to that, Castiel sighs and gathers their empty dishes. “Well, I think you did a wonderful job honoring her memory with this soup, it’s delicious, and I am really—” 

A flurry of movement next to him, Dean’s pounding foot falls on the stairs, and Pug’s irritated squeals as he follows cut Castiel off and he turns towards the staircase, not sure what’s happening, until the hair on the back of his neck rises. His gaze swings towards the large picture window in the front of the store, which gives him a very clear view of Bobby Singer about to enter, the scowl Castiel could never forget fixed on his face deeper than he remembers.

Castiel stands as he comes in and and only pauses briefly before he straightens up and holds his hand out in greeting. “Sir—Mr. Singer—I—Welcome.” 

Bobby stares at his hand until Castiel drops it back to his side, not sure what the protocol is when one is so awkward in front of his boyfriend’s father figure (the boyfriend he’s harboring upstairs from the man who’s here to find him, no doubt). 

“Wonderin’ if I could speak to Dean,” is all Bobby says, not even giving Castiel an inch. 

They talked about this. Dean said Castiel didn’t have to speak for him, but he didn’t want to talk to anyone, and Castiel knew that once word got out that Dean was  _ here _ , people would come looking for him. Instead of answering questions, the plan was to play dumb and Dean swore up and down there was no way Bobby would come down here, that he’d send Jo or even Ellen to do the interrogation and if Castiel just acted clueless, they’d move along.

Castiel was really hoping for Jo.

And you know, he should get points for trying. “He’s not—” 

“Now, don’t lie to me boy, I may have been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night,” he snaps, making Castiel’s mouth click shut. “I know he hightailed it over here, minute he could, and I got on good authority that he had a bottle with him.”

How the hell could Bobby know that?

“M’not sure how much you know about his sobriety and that’s between you two, but if he was—” 

A loud creak from the top of the stairs gives Bobby pause and Castiel tries not to wince at it. 

Bobby’s scowl gets deeper. “If he was in  _ need _ of a meeting, I’d want him to know there’s one over on Fifth tonight, seven-thirty.” He’s completely unamused and not trying to be subtle in the slightest. “Think you can get that information to him?” Very pointedly, Bobby looks down at their dirty lunch dishes, obviously set out for two people.

Right. Swallowing thickly, Castiel nods, and wills his voice not to shake. “If I speak to him, I will pass on the message.” 

Glaring at him for far longer than Castiel’s comfortable with, Bobby’s eyes only flick over to the staircase once before he glances around, taking a sweep of the store. “I tried to buy this building, before it got taken off the market. It’s got great bones.” 

Castiel tries to hide the surprise he’s sure crosses his face to learn that Bobby was one of Jimmy’s potential buyers. Bobby levels their gazes and pierces Castiel with a glare even more fierce than the last ones. “You make sure you take care of it.” 

Again, the man is  _ not  _ subtle and he doesn’t leave until Castiel nods in agreement. 

When the door closes behind him, Castiel has to sit, his adrenaline making him a bit woozy. 

Dean's by his side in a flash, stumbling over his apologies. "Shit, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you didn't have to do that.  _ Really _ didn't think he'd haul ass all the way over here for that." Sliding his hands down Castiel’s shoulders and arms, Dean looks him over. “You okay?”

“He’s very intimidating,” Castiel admits, his heart beat slowing. “But he must care a lot if you think it’s a big deal he came over here.” 

“Yeah, tryin’ to get me to talk about it.” 

Castiel doesn’t see it that way and he takes Dean’s hand. “I think he wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know,  _ do _ you think it would help to go to a meeting?” He can’t say he knows anything about AA but it must be important, if that was Bobby’s only message. 

“Don’t need a meeting,” Dean mutters before he grabs their dishes. “M’fine.” 

Castiel narrows his eyes as Dean goes upstairs because it’s obvious he’s not. 

And he doesn’t come back down again. Pug comes up and down throughout the day and Castiel can hear Dean moving around upstairs but the one time Castiel ventures up, Dean’s napping, a book still open on his chest where he fell asleep reading on the couch. He quietly refills his water and slips back down to the store.

It frustrates him, not knowing how to help Dean. Castiel wants to fix this, make him feel better, let Dean know that he can get through this, but it's hard when Dean won't accept that he needs anyone's help to do it.

Not knowing what else to do, Castiel spends the rest of the afternoon googling grief counseling and he's pleased to find the Internet overflowing with information. He even bookmarks a few sites, especially interested in what he finds about Al-Anon, a program available for people whose loved ones have problems with alcohol. 

It still doesn’t feel like enough. When Chuck passed away, Castiel mourned him, the hardest time being when he was tasked with going through his personal things, which was why most of it was still sitting untouched in the basement. Their relationship was always… stiff. Now that he’s an adult with a better perspective, Castiel knows Chuck had his own issues with his mental health, and having twin babies land on his doorstep had to have been jarring. While they may not have grown up in the most affectionate household, never did Castiel wonder if Chuck cared for them. The twins never went a day without so despite his own shortcomings, Chuck was an excellent guardian where it counted. 

Dean’s temperament isn’t much better after Castiel closes the store and comes upstairs for the night. He’s re-heated the soup, and fancied up their sandwiches some by adding strips of bacon, but he doesn’t even pretend like he’s going to feed Pug some, like he usually does whenever they eat the offending food in front of him. 

The worry in Castiel’s gut that he’s been trying to ignore all day flares and doesn’t calm, even while they do the dishes together and even while they lay together on the couch and read. Well, Castiel tries to concentrate and Dean spends the whole time staring at the same page and he doesn’t say much when he gets up to go to bed, even before Pug’s last walk of the evening. 

There’s a heaviness weighing them down, it makes Dean’s shoulders sag as Castiel watches him walk to the bedroom and the useless feeling inside Castiel joins his concern for Dean and all of it makes him ache, even the cool evening air not helping and he’s almost relieved when his body decides that it’s tired, finally, and when he joins Dean in bed, he can’t blame the man for his restlessness.

After what feels like hours of listening to Dean turn and whimper in his sleep, Castiel drifts off into his own restless slumber, the kind that feels like it's being chased, only caught when the morning eventually arrives.


	19. Chapter 19

Castiel doesn’t know what wakes him in the dead of the night. In his mind, it’s a distant sound, something loud and jarring but it doesn’t take long for him to think it might have been something else. 

Dean's side of their bed is empty. 

And as disoriented as Castiel feels, he knows right where Dean will be. 

The stairs are cold under his feet, but the basement is colder. 

When Castiel gets to the bottom of the stairs, only the light above the washer is on, and Dean’s sitting on top of it wearing only his pajama bottoms. He’s hunched over, and his hair sticks up in dull peaks, his feet bare, and the bottle of whiskey is in one hand, dangling between his knees. 

It's open, the cap discarded on the ground below his feet. 

Castiel knew he should have shattered that goddamn thing when he had the opportunity. 

He steps into the circle of light and Dean doesn’t look up. 

“You still haven’t you asked if I’ve drank from this yet.” His voice is rough, and too dark. “Why don’t you care?”

Of all the things Castiel thought Dean might say, asking if Castiel cares about him is maybe the last thing he’d ever imagine. It renders him speechless. 

“Because if I’m being honest, if my guy was a stupid, pathetic ex-drunk and he showed up with a bottle, it’d been the first thing outta my damn mouth.” Dean doesn’t move, addressing his hands and the thing in them and refusing to look at Castiel when he speaks. “Don’t know how that doesn’t matter, smart guy like you.” 

What’s left of Castiel’s dwindling patience evaporates. “Well, did you,” he demands, not that it matters now. If Dean wants Castiel to ask so damn bad, he’s going to ask, especially if he’s going to make Castiel freeze his ass off because of it at two in the morning. He doesn’t wait for Dean to answer. “Because it doesn’t matter if you did. It didn’t matter when you showed up here three days ago and it doesn’t fucking matter now and if I have to explain that it’s because I simply  _ love  _ you too much, well then let me know so I can explain  _ again.”  _ Castiel knows he sounds impatient, but that’s because he is. “I’ll explain it every damn day, if that’s what it takes for you to believe it.” 

The sooner Dean understands this, the better.

Finally, Dean looks up at him and he’s too slow to hide the hope in his eyes from Castiel, hope that shifts into disbelief and denial. He shakes his head. “You keep sayin’ that and I—”

“If you can’t say it back, I understand,” Castiel interrupts. “And if you feel—differently, we can discuss that later. This isn’t about me, none of this is about that.”

“But it is.”

“But it isn’t, Dean. This is about you thinking that bottle defines you when it doesn’t, when it  _ hasn’t _ for a long time.” 

“You’re the only one who thinks that.” 

“That’s right,” he snaps, fed up. “It’s because I’m not like them, Dean, I’m  _ not _ them and  _ that’s _ another reason why whether you took a drink from this fucking bottle doesn’t matter to me.” Castiel rips the thing from Dean’s hand and some sloshes out, wetting the back of his hand and splashing the floor. 

They both flinch at the potent odor, prompting Castiel to dip down to pick up the cap and screw it on tightly, cringing at the wetness. Wiping his hand on a towel meant for the washer, he looks at Dean, who seems stunned by Castiel’s assertiveness. 

“You know, I wanted to destroy this?” He holds up the bottle, the coldness of it feeling too cold, the weight and shape wrong in his hands. “I wanted to throw it as hard as I could and see it shatter because this is just a stupid vice, this is just an excuse and you—you don’t  _ need _ this anymore, Dean, don’t you see that?” 

He puts the alcohol out of Dean’s reach, unable to stand holding it and it makes his stomach turn to see Dean staring at it when Castiel turns back to him. 

“I always hated myself when I drank. Like, I drank to make everything not feel so bad, and then I’d just wind up hating myself for it. For the things I did when I was drunk, or the shit I had to do to get there.” That dark edge is back in his voice and Castiel hates it more than he’s ever hated anything, hearing years of Dean’s pain run like a current through his normally beautiful voice. “Used to hustle pretty college boys like you, the smart ones, the ones out to blow off some steam, the ones who just wanted to  _ talk. _ I’d end up with my drinks bought and sometimes, if I was just nice enough, a tank of gas for driving them back to their dorms, all topped off with a nice little—” 

Castiel’s flinch cuts Dean off. For the first time, Castiel thinks maybe Dean  _ did _ drink, that being the only explanation for the terrible confessions he’s sharing about things that feel too close to home. He can remember many nights he considered going out to seek the attention he wasn’t receiving from Inias, but never did he act upon it. Would he have fallen just as easy for a man like Dean? 

Considering the precarious situation they’re in now, Castiel knows the answer to that is yes.

“See, I tried to warn you, you can’t say I didn’t,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I told you I was shit at this, I knew I’d find a way to fuck this up and we’re finally here.” This admission makes the fight go out of him, withering to the ground like a dying weed and watching Dean crumble makes Castiel’s knees weak. “This is what happens when I care about someone,” he whispers, the darkness gone, only defeat left behind. “And now’s the part where you tell me to leave.” 

Breath caught in his throat, Castiel’s heart pounds as he does the complete opposite, stepping between Dean’s spread knees to cup his face in both hands and tilt it up so that Dean has no choice but to look directly into Castiel’s eyes. Unshed tears linger but spill over when Castiel kisses Dean full on the mouth, he can feel their wetness splash the backs of his hands as he captures Dean’s bottom lip in a bruising kiss before he’s pulling back just as quickly, leaving only his hands on Dean’s face, Dean’s eyes wet and desperate. 

“Does it look like I’m going anywhere, Dean?” Castiel knows he looks the same when they crash back together, Dean’s arms going around Castiel’s shoulders, his hands going into Castiel’s hair. Long, lean bow legs wrap around his waist as Dean kisses him back with just as much urgency as Castiel has. Pulling Dean as close as he can, Castiel wraps Dean in his arms to hold him as tight as possible. 

When Castiel runs his tongue along the seam of Dean’s lips, Dean opens his mouth to let him in around a moan that sounds like Castiel’s name and the relief he feels, when he dips inside Dean’s sweet mouth and only tastes sleep and  _ Dean _ is so palpable, Castiel knows Dean can feel it too. 

It’s enough to give them pause, to make them pull back, foreheads remaining pressed together.

“I didn’t drink.”

“I know.”

“Even the other night. I didn’t drink then either.”

“I believe you.”

“But why?” 

“Why  _ not _ ? Because someone you no longer are, someone I’ve never known used to do it? That’s not you.” Castiel rubs their noses together and Dean’s eyes flutter shut. “That’s not the man I know, it’s not the man I fell in love with, the day he showed up with pink hair and wanted to walk my pig.” 

“The fact that that isn’t an ephanism is actually hilarious,” Dean whispers, struggling around the lightness. 

Castiel picks up the mantel and pulls back, faux indignation on his face. “It  _ isn’t? _ Are you saying you didn’t find me attractive when we met?” 

Dean huffs and yanks Castiel back to him. “Most gorgeous guy I’d ever laid eyes on,” he mutters, nosing at Castiel’s cheek. “You know you’re beautiful, with all that stupid hair and those eyes,” he half complains. 

Castiel hides his smile in the curve of Dean’s neck. “Actually, what I am is cold.” He snuggles into Dean’s embrace to prove his point. He’s not that cold, now that they’re hugging but… they’re still in the basement. 

Dean curses when he realizes it. “Damn it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He slides off the washer and laces their fingers together. “Let’s go back to bed.” 

That makes Castiel the warmest he’s felt since he got down here. Until he remembers the bottle. Dean freezes when he sees it too. 

“What do you want me to do with it?” Castiel asks his question quietly, ready to do whatever Dean needs. 

Instead of answering, Dean squares his shoulders, squeezes Castiel’s hand, and picks up the bottle as they begin the trek back upstairs. It feels like the longest walk of his life, the agitation that thing brings thick between them. Dean leads them into the kitchen, only to stop at the sink before looking at Castiel. 

“You know, I wake up every single day, and I swear that I’m gonna be the best man I can be, for you and for the last few days, I—I haven’t done that and as much as I want to blame this shit,” he holds up the bottle, “I can’t. That’s on me. But I  _ can _ do this.” 

He opens the lid with a few skilled flicks of his fingers and the cap spins off and into the sink, bouncing against the sides before Dean clenches his jaw, holds the bottle over the drain and tips it. The amber liquid flows out and the smell hits them both at the same time, making Dean gag at the potency of so much pouring out at once. Castiel leans forward to push open the window and turn on the sink to wash away the offensive alcohol. Seeing Dean take the initiative to dump it out himself makes Castiel swell with pride for him and his recovery. 

“I swear, Cas, I promise I won’t bring this shit into our lives again.” Making sure it doesn’t break, Dean puts the bottle down, its threat gone, trash the only thing left behind. He looks at Castiel steadily. “It’s not worth it, it’s not, not if it means I could lose you.”

Shaking his head, Castiel struggles to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. “You couldn’t.” 

Dean’s determination softens. “Never found anything that makes me as happy as when I can make you smile, and Pug—” Dean huffs and wipes at the tears that Castiel’s lost his battle against. “He’s my little man.” Patiently kissing each tear that continues to roll down Castiel’s cheeks, Dean doesn’t waiver. “Never wanted anything as much as I want you, Cas, and that scares the shit out of me but damn it—you two are everything to me.” 

Castiel can only stare in wonder as he processes this admission, Dean’s words filling Castiel with warmth, and love, and hope for them and their future. Together. 

“Say something,” Dean pleads softly, clearly nervous about the heart on his sleeve. Castiel wonders if Dean knows that he always wears it there, he’s just usually better at hiding it. 

Smiling gently, Castiel cups Dean's cheek. "I love you too, Dean," he replies before closing the distance between them, grinning wider when Dean smiles with relief against his mouth before he kisses Castiel back.

The distance stays nonexistent as they stumble back into their shared bed, with sheets that smell like Dean and are filled with laughter, and sorrow, and bliss when they get tangled between them. 

Dean is sweet when they're finally naked, kissing his way up and down Castiel's body until he's nothing but sensations, until all he can see are flashes of green eyes and all he can feel is Dean, hot when he sinks down around him, beautiful when he cries out Castiel's name. 

Castiel only wants to hold Dean close as they move together so he keeps him wrapped in his arms as they find their rhythm so he can taste Dean's lips and swallow his pleasure until it spills from both of them, together, a moment when their souls greet each other and reaffirm the profound bond that connects them.

Their kisses don't stop, even as Castiel helps Dean into the sheets and only then does Castiel pull away so he can clean up, Dean's comfort his priority. He's fast at this now anyway and he's quickly back in bed, Dean rolling under the crook of Castiel's arm so Castiel can wrap him into a warm hug, Dean's head against his chest. Dean's holding onto to him just as tight. They fall asleep like that and wake up the same, all throughout the week. 

The next few days are quiet. Claire comes over to spend a rare mid-week night at Castiel’s after she spent the week begging to come see Dean. Dean shows his enthusiasm by making them a delicious avocado pesto pasta with crusty garlic bread, all vegan for Claire with an incredible salted honey pie, something he serves with mugs of hot chocolate while they play cards long into the night, Claire showing off her sharpened poker skills that she used on her dad while they were away on vacation. Jimmy wasn’t pleased she had been taught to play poker, but Claire reported that by the end of the trip, their games were getting pretty ruthless. 

As she’s been sharing stories, Castiel’s noticed that she has much less of an edge when talking about her dad and he can’t help but hope that they’re getting along better. He doesn’t get a chance to talk to Claire about it but Castiel doesn’t mind much, considering how much lightness and laughter her presence brings to the apartment. Pug doesn’t leave her lap the entire night and she’s happy to take him on his walk while they stay in and clean up, Castiel on dishes while Dean wraps up the leftovers and picks up all the cards which had gotten upturned by an excited little pig as he ran around them chasing his toy. 

It’s a peaceful night, one needed after the darkness of the last few days. Dean’s slipped into an almost contemplative mood when they’re alone, and often out of nowhere, he recounts times on the road with his dad and with Sam. Castiel listens and when the stories are good, he’s happy that Dean’s happy and he tries to commit those moments to memory. 

When the stories are bad (and there are far more bad than good, unfortunately), Castiel holds Dean through them and dreams for the child he never got to be. It’s unfair, the life he was born to but Castiel will be the first to remind him of how far he’s come, to do his best to redirect Dean’s heartache and tragedy into something he can be proud of, using examples of Dean’s talent and beautiful art, something Castiel’s had a much deeper look at since Dean’s been staying here. 

He draws  _ constantly _ . He has a variety of sketchbooks he works in, with different mediums like pencils and watercolors. His supplies filled almost an entire duffle and he’s meticulously careful with them, keeping everything out of Pug’s reach and organized. And his  _ art, _ it’s incredible. Every week Castiel watches him almost sell out of his paintings at the market, but he’s rarely seen his sketching and watercolor art and everything he does is just… inspired. 

If Dean has trouble expressing his feelings verbally, he has no such difficulty doing so with his art. 

Friday morning dawns gloomy, dark clouds hanging over the Village but just sitting there, making everything sullen when Castiel and Pug walk Claire to the subway, leaving Dean sleeping in bed, buried under their covers. 

They’re almost there when Castiel notices that Claire’s been glancing at him more and more and he finally looks over at her, opening the floor as it seems she has something to say. 

He’s right when she jumps at the opportunity he gives. 

“Are you okay, uncle? I know this has been shitty for Dean, but what about you? Are you taking care of yourself too?” 

Ignoring her language, Castiel smiles gently, as reassuring as he can. He’s exhausted, that’s true and he’s been worrying too much over Dean than probably healthy but even so, they’ve been taking care of each other. “I’m okay, better than I’m sure I look. Tired, yes, but this is a difficult thing to navigate. We’re both doing the best we can.”

She nods thoughtfully. “Really makes you think about the important stuff, huh?” 

“Unfortunately, death has a way of doing that.” 

“It’s not always a bad thing though, the reminder. Sometimes the end results can be pretty great.” With that, she takes Castiel’s hand and doesn’t let it go until they reach the subway and Castiel’s heart is full of love for her and her careful way of telling him his presence is appreciated. 

The gloom doesn’t let up all morning, the unusual late summer storm just hovering over the city. The humidity doesn’t help, muting the sound of the village and making everything heavy and sticky and uncomfortable. He’s kept the store cool but anytime the door opens, Castiel can feel the oppressive air trying to come inside. 

Luckily, business is slow for a Friday and by lunch time, Castiel’s looking forward to the break. Dean’s been up and down with Pug all morning, hanging around the lounge area sketching and keeping Castiel company while he works on a quick inventory. He’s wearing Castiel’s University of Washington hat and Castiel keeps stealing looks at him in it, his heart beating fast every time. He doesn’t know what it is about that that gives him a thrill but it sure is something. 

It also makes it difficult for Castiel to keep his hands to himself while he works. He’s constantly finding reasons to pass behind where Dean sits and trail a hand across the back of his neck, or tap him on top of the hat. Dean just shakes his head and doesn’t stop working whenever Castiel does it, but Castiel can still see a small smile on Dean’s face if he happens to look back. 

Dean stays downstairs to talk to Ash when he arrives to take Pug for his walk and Castiel lets them talk while he wrestles Pug into his harness, Dean disappearing after and coming back down with their lunch. While he was gone, Castiel tidied up his pencils and sketchbook, clearing the coffee table for their food. 

They enjoy reheated leftovers from last nights pasta, even better the second day. Dean’s toasted more bread and they share the couch while they eat and discuss the possibility of a book like The Martian actually happening. Castiel’s noticed that Dean enjoys reading books with a more science fiction element to them and it’s one of Castiel’s favorite genres, so their discussions often become animated. Dean loved this book, as did Castiel, so they’re both enjoying themselves. 

Until Dean drops his fork into his bowl and leaves it on the table with a clatter and an urgent apology before he’s springing off the couch and up the stairs, Castiel’s stomach dropping at who could be coming to find Dean today, to merit such a frantic reaction. 

Sam Winchester only hesitates until his eyes find Castiel’s through the window, and then he’s pushing the door open, and stepping inside. 

Castiel is sure his heart stops. 

Looking every bit the Assistant District Attorney he is, Sam is wearing a very expensive looking suit and he’s quite the intimidating presence, all six foot four of him, standing tall and square shouldered in Castiel’s rather small part of the world. And Castiel, in his wrinkled slacks and maroon sweater, one of Dean’s favorites. He’s a little mad he didn’t shave this morning (or the day before) but there’s nothing he can do about it now. 

Standing, Castiel holds a hand out, which Sam promptly shakes. “Sam, welcome.”

“Castiel.” Sam’s not smiling, but he doesn’t seem aggressive, more tired than anything. The longer Castiel looks at him, the longer he can see that Sam is slightly frayed around edges that looked sharp at first glance. Maybe it’s immature of him, but it gives Castiel a boost of confidence to see that Sam doesn’t have it all together. 

“I’m here about my brother.” Sam doesn’t mince words. 

Castiel finds he appreciates it. “I didn’t think you were here for the newest classic fiction.”

“I’ve already picked up the Handmaiden’s Tale sequel, have you read it?”

Castiel’s stunned. “Uh, no.” He clears his throat. “This week has been a bit busy.” 

Eyebrows raising, the slightly smug look Sam was harboring vanishes. “I’d like to talk to Dean, if I could.” 

Castiel shrugs. “Have you tried to call him?” Even as he suggests it, he considers that Sam might have trouble hearing him over the loud pounding of Castiel’s heart while he lies. 

Sam crosses his arms over his chest. “So, this is how he wants to play it? Like he hasn’t been here hiding out all week? Really?” 

Maybe he has a little trouble at being subtle but Sam’s the one in Castiel’s space now and his hackles go up at that. “He’s usually very prompt at returning missed calls. Mine, anyway.” He stares back, refusing to give Sam even an inch to justify that comment.

Uncrossing his arms with a huff, Sam rubs a hand over his mouth and Castiel notices the healing scab on his knuckles, his mind jumping to the similar injury left on Dean’s lip. It makes his blood boil. Dean refused to talk about what happened between them but Castiel can imagine, the small scar on his own hand a reminder that brothers fight. It still pisses him off. 

Sam shakes his head when Castiel doesn’t say anything else. “Look, I know you think you have to protect him but—” 

“I’m simply respecting his wishes,” Castiel cuts him off. “Something people seem to be having trouble doing.” 

“And you think encouraging him to ignore his problems and responsibilities is the way to do that? Because that isn’t what my brother needs.” 

Castiel’s eyebrows fly up at that. “And you know what Dean needs? Or are you deciding that for him?” 

“No! I just want—” Suddenly, Sam seems to hear himself, and he almost deflates, his arms dropping to his sides as he emits a heavy sigh. “We’re having a small service tomorrow, for my dad.”

Castiel furrows his brow, unable to imagine a reason.

“Bela’s invited some people and—” Sam appears to fight with the next thing he says. “You’re both welcome. Two o’clock. I can send a car, if that’s easier…” he trails off, seemingly out of words. 

Castiel couldn’t imagine a more nightmare scenario than that which Sam just proposed, but he merely nods. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message when I speak to Dean.” 

When Sam looks down at their abandoned lunch, Castiel tries not to grimace. People need to stop dropping by during lunch when Castiel’s trying to hide someone. He is surprised, however, when Sam laughs dryly. 

“You know, part of me knows my brother is here, but when I look at your lunch, I know there’s no way the other half of that is his.” He eyes the greenish pesto pasta, it’s bright red cherry tomatoes adding a lovely color. It’s really a delicious meal. “My brother would never eat something that  _ green. _ If it was a double bacon cheeseburger, that would be different.” 

Realization dawns on Castiel and he shakes his head. “There really is so much you don’t know about Dean.” 

Sam glances at him, smug satisfaction on his face and Castiel realizes his mistake and how easily he fell for Sam’s ruse. He just clenches his jaw and refuses to let Sam see he got the best of him. Castiel knows for sure that Dean’s been listening on the stairs the entire time and he silently apologizes for his slip. 

“What I know is that the right thing to do would be for my brother to show up tomorrow.”

There’s a thousand counter arguments Castiel could launch, but instead he just pushes down his anger and considers Sam carefully as he goes on. 

“I don’t ask a lot from him but this is important.”

“Because of how it will make you and your wife look?” 

That seems to piss Sam off and Castiel wonders if he’s gone too far but honestly, he can’t help himself. Sam straightens to his full height. “Because we’re family.”

Considering what he’s known of Dean since he met him, and was introduced to the Village, Castiel says the first thing that comes to mind. “I think you and Dean have different definitions of that word.”

“I really don’t think that’s your place to comment on.” 

“Maybe not, but it is my place to tell you that Dean is an exceptional person who spends an exhausting amount of time doing good for the people around him.” Castiel shrugs. “I can’t begrudge him time to process the loss of someone whose impact has cost Dean a lot, a terrible impact that he’s worked hard to overcome.” He glances at Sam’s nice suit and slicked back hair. “For all the good, hard work you do, don’t you ever wonder where those ethics come from?”

Sam’s surprised face doesn’t slow Castiel down and he continues. “Because I believe it’s a result of being raised by the best man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I expect some of that had to have worn off on you.” 

Sam’s mouth snaps shut, it having fallen open in the middle of Castiel’s slightly impassioned speech. He didn’t mean to get up on a soapbox, he just… felt compelled to defend the man he loves. He can’t be blamed. 

Before Sam can form a retort, a rush of hot air from behind him and scrambling, excited hooves slipping on the hardwood indicate that Ash and Pug have returned from Pug’s walk. Running past him at first when he sees Castiel, Pug almost flips over on himself when he realizes there’s a new person in the store and he greets Sam like he greets most of Castiel’s customers, by sniffing and squealing at him until Pug gets the petting he desires. The little pig has learned that strangers love to pet him and he’s always up for allowing them the opportunity. 

Sam looks between the pig, Castiel, and back at Ash like he’s trying to process everything and failing. 

“Pug, come here little one,” Castiel calls at the same time Ash recognizes that it’s Sam in the store. 

“Sam, what’s up, man, what are you doing here?” His eyes dart anxiously over to Castiel before flicking up at the ceiling, making Castiel rolls his eyes as he leans down to pick up Pug. The pig has other plans however, and he slips out of Castiel’s grip so he can hustle towards the stairs, his ears perked and tail whipping as he goes. 

The squealing when he turns the corner intensifies and Castiel winces. Luckily, Sam’s stopped paying attention to him, now turned towards the door. 

“Ash, I was just leaving.” He glances back at Castiel. “Gonna hear some shit for being late.”

Castiel huffs and Sam raises an eyebrow. “You came here on borrowed time?” Castiel returns his stare. “Dean deserves more than that.” 

While he holds Castiel’s gaze, he can see a muscle in Sam’s jaw jumping. “Please ask my brother to call me.” 

He doesn’t wait for Castiel’s response before he turns back to a terrified Ash. Sam gestures at him to exit first and all he can do is shoot Castiel an apologetic look before he’s hurrying out the door. Castiel can hear Sam offering him a ride back to The Roadhouse. 

It’s not until they’re both inside the black town car idling at the curb does Castiel let go of the breath he’s holding, only stumbling back a little before his legs give out and he collapses onto the couch. 

Castiel is kind of freaking out, confrontation not his style but there was just no way he would be able to stand for the way Sam was so flippant about how Dean’s handling this loss, like it’s hard for him to see it beyond more than a transaction. 

He lets out a shaky breath as the car pulls away and he’s more than relieved when Dean drops next to him, hands already on Castiel’s shoulders as he checks him over, running them down his arms so he can grab Castiel’s hands. “Fuck, babe, I’m so fuckin’ sorry, I panicked, I didn’t know what to do and I—” 

Castiel squeezes his hands and shakes his head. “It’s fine, that’s fine, can you please get him?” He nods towards Pug who is face first in the remainder of Dean’s lunch. 

Groaning, Dean pulls the now sticky and rather green pig away from their ruined lunch. “Fuck, couldn’t believe he got you with the food; tricky bastard.” 

“You sound almost proud,” Castiel can’t help but comment, relieved Dean’s not upset about it. 

“Well, he was always the top of his class,” he mumbles, wiping Pug’s face as best he can. 

Castiel can’t help but pinch the bridge of his nose, his fading adrenaline starting to make his arms heavy. “You know, it’s very obvious when you’re eavesdropping.”

Dean freezes. “Do y’think Sam knew?”

Seeing an opportunity, Pug begins to eat the napkin in Dean’s hands that was just used to clean his face and Castiel tries to pry it from his mouth. “He knew you were here, but I’m not sure if he knew you were listening.” He sighs and balls up the chewed napkin, tossing it into the empty bowl before he cleans up. “I don’t enjoy doing that.” 

Dean catches him by the wrist and Castiel freezes, only staring at the dirty dishes for a moment before he looks up to see Dean, eyes filled with anguish. “I swear I won’t let it happen again, promise.” He brings Castiel’s hand up to his mouth so he can place a kiss right in the middle of his palm. Dean’s lips are soft and Castiel wishes Dean were kissing him right now, business hour rules be damned. 

Instead, Dean stands with a wiggling Pug in his arms, glancing through the picture window. “Shit, Kev’s coming. I’m gonna go clean this guy up, get him some real lunch. You’ll be up in a few?” 

At least one of them will eat a decent lunch. Castiel hums non committedly as Dean takes off for the stairs and Castiel can’t believe it’s already late enough for Kevin to arrive for his shift. He’s closing the store tonight having switched with Castiel so he could take a placement test this morning, the young man trying to get out of taking some history course about languages he wasn’t interested in. Castiel thought it seemed intriguing but wished Kevin luck when he accepted his offer to trade shifts. 

Castiel’s happy for the coincidence now. 

Once Kevin has stored his school bags in the office and caught Castiel up on his classes, they go over the inventory Castiel finished, Kevin promising to complete it tonight, along with the order that always follows. It’s been quiet upstairs as they’ve talked and as Castiel ascends the stairs, he wonders if there’s anymore pasta.

Pushing open the door, his hunger vanishes. Dean and Pug are there, both fast asleep on the couch. Pug’s nestled in the crook of Dean’s arm, his long pink body stretched out, his nose buried in Dean’s neck and Dean, his beautiful Dean, shirtless and in black sleep pants, freshly showered too and, much to Castiel’s surprise… every last bit of color is gone from Dean’s hair and it’s now a lovely sandy blonde, just as Dean said it would be. 

He always takes Castiel’s breath away. 

Even as he leans over the back of the couch, Castiel knows he shouldn’t disturb them, he  _ knows _ he should keep his hands to himself but he can’t help but push his fingers through Dean’s hair, soft from his shower and sitting in waves. It’s grown out and Castiel’s obsessed and Dean knows it. 

Humming at Castiel’s touch, Dean’s eyes blink open and his sleepy smile at seeing Castiel standing over him makes Castiel fall for him all over again. “Hello, Dean,” he whispers, softened by the sight of his loves.

“You took so long,” Dean replies softly. “Mister didn’t want to settle after his bath so we laid down.” 

“My apologies, can I take him to his room? I’m going to change if you want to go back to sleep.” Castiel wants to get comfortable as soon as possible, on the couch with Dean, hopefully. 

Dean nods down at Pug, indicating that Castiel can scoop the pig up. He struggles to sit up once Castiel has Pug in his arms. “Nah, I wanna hang out with you.” 

Unsure if Dean wants to talk, Castiel hurries his way through putting Pug down to sleep and changing out of his work clothes, swapping them for a pair of dark green sweats. Dean’s already reaching out for him when he approaches the couch, and Castiel drops next to him and lets himself be tucked under Dean’s arm.

Dean doesn’t waste any time. “I’m really sorry I can’t stop fucking up. I shouldn’t have hid from Sam, it’s just—” He flexes his hand. “He was so pissed at me before, and I felt so fuckin trapped, I swear Cas, I never tried to hit him, I hit the wall next to his head on purpose. Should have known he’d swing back on instinct.” He shrugs. “After that, I let my temper get the best of me and threw my phone against the wall. Ellen’s gonna kick my ass for that.”

Castiel’s surprised, considering his own transgressions against  _ his  _ brother. Castiel assumed Dean had taken part in the fight and he can’t help but feel guilty for doing so.

“I didn’t want to get into it with him in the store.” Dean touches his lip, a small scab still lingering below his lip line. He’ll have a scar for sure. “It’s still shitty of me to have done that again though.”

“Dean, it’s fine,” Castiel replies, understanding that Dean had his interests at heart. Unfortunately, it’s obvious that Dean’s anonymity has vanished. He looks at him warily before he breaks the news. “I do think the jig, as they say, is up.” 

Dean’s sigh is heavy. It’s almost been a week he’s been here recuperating and ever since the night in the laundry room, Dean’s mood has been improving and Castiel’s afraid of Dean losing progress now that Sam’s been here. Now that everyone knows Dean’s here. 

“We’re not going to that shit tomorrow,” Dean spits out, sounding firm. “I’m not putting you through that.”

“What about you? Never mind that toxic environment, but what the hell is left to say? To mourn? And in front of those awful people?” Castiel shudders at the thought of seeing Bela’s leer again or any of them. He doesn’t include Sam in this generalization of terribleness, but then again, Sam hasn’t done a lot to exclude himself from the pack, either, at least in Castiel’s eyes. Even so, Castiel knows one truth Dean doesn’t want to hear. He says it anyway. “I do however, believe you should talk to Sam. Privately.” 

Dean starts to shake his head. 

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but I think it would be in your favor to come clean about the way you two grew up,” Castiel presses. He doesn’t want to be yet another person telling Dean what he should be doing, he simply wants Dean to see that there’s real healing that could happen between him and Sam, if they’re both willing. 

Sam’s persistency makes Castiel think he might be. He knows Dean’s fear is holding him back.

“He doesn’t need that shit in his head about me,” Dean insists.

Castiel pushes back, turning in Dean’s embrace to look at him. “And what he has now is better? Dean, he  _ needs _ to know, he  _ has _ to, if you’re ever going to get past this. I know this is killing you, and that’s killing me.”

Red-rimmed green eyes widen and Dean looks desperately sad about that. 

Before he goes on, Castiel reaches up to take Dean’s hand, pulling it to his mouth so he can press a soft kiss into Dean’s palm. “Sam is a grown man, he’s not the little boy you knew, or the petulant teenager. He’s an  _ adult _ , with a family and an office job, Dean—he has a  _ commute. _ ” Dean’s tear filled chuckle spurns Castiel on. “He can handle the truth about how his big brother turned out so strong. And it won’t be easy. But we’ll be here.” He smiles. “You can cuddle Pug while you talk, if you want.” 

Dean’s doing that thing where it seems like he’s trying to figure Castiel out. “Why’re you so good to me, Cas?” 

Castiel smiles wisely. “Because when I have to go talk to my brother, I know you’ll be here for me too.” 

His face breaking out in a grin, Dean tips their foreheads together. “Don’t think Jimmy will like it if you want to cuddle me while you talk.” 

“No, I don’t think he would appreciate that.” He leans in to brush their lips together. “We should do it anyway.” 

The laugh that puffs against his lips makes him smile before Dean’s tightening the arm around him and kissing Castiel hard and neither of them can be blamed for finding solace in each other, the tribulations of the last month having taken its toll on both of them. 

The rain begins while they make love on the couch, the heavy downpour drowning out the sound of their pleasure, all that doesn’t get lost between them. After, when they’re naked and tangled together, catching their breath, Dean won’t stop kissing him, like if he does, it’s back to thinking about all the bullshit. 

They just can’t escape it. So neither of them try. 

The day slips away and they let it, knowing that they’re all soon to get back to normal but maybe, just for a little while longer, they can pretend they don’t have to. 

The storm is relentless and it only worsens during the night. Dean even checks for random hurricane warnings after the wind blows a rather large, rather  _ loud _ trash can down the street, something that had to have woken the whole block with the noise it made. Pug sleeps through it all but Dean and Castiel lay together for a while after, listening to the storm and exchanging soft kisses, slight brushes of their lips between more reflection. Dean decides he wants to talk to Sam, vowing to call him in the morning and with that in mind, Castiel sleeps better, and thinks Dean might too, when he wakes without the haunting dark circles that have lingered under his eyes for the last week.

He’s even enthusiastic with his morning kisses and wandering hands and in no time, they’re both grinning and trying to catch their breath while seeing how long they can maintain eye contact, seems like, the way they can’t stop staring. Castiel loves the flush in Dean’s cheeks and chest and the way his lips swell from too much of Castiel’s attention. He finds it incredibly hard to look away.

But nature does call and when Castiel’s exiting the bathroom, Dean’s sitting up in bed, his phone in his hands. 

“Are you going to call Sam now? I can give you privacy.” 

Dean hasn’t stopped staring at the screen and he shakes his head. “Listen to this.” Tapping the screen, Sam’s voice on speakerphone fills the room.

“Hey, uh, Dean? I—I want you to know I cancelled the thing tomorrow.” Sam sounds strained, like each word is a hill to climb. “After I left your place I—I took Ash home and shit—” He chokes on the words, silencing himself and there’s some scuffling on the line, and Castiel can hear a loud sniff. He finds his own concern reflected in Dean’s eyes when Castiel realizes Sam is crying. “I talked to Bobby okay, and he—he told me everything and I—dammit Dean, Poughkeepsie, okay?” Another almost sob. “Poughkeepsie.” 

Three loud beeps signal the end of the call and a chill runs through Castiel’s body. 

Dean looks like he’s about to cry. “When we were kids, we had code words for everything, cuz of our dad, and anytime we’d get into a fight and he’d finally be ready to forgive me, he’d write that damn word out and leave it for me to find.” A tear slips down his cheek. “Meant he was ready to call a truce.” 

Castiel sits next to him on his side of the bed and takes Dean’s hand, stroking his thumb over Dean’s. His heart full, Castiel closes his hand over the phone. “Call him back. Now. Don’t wait.” 

“Yeah, yeah—you’re right. Okay.” He looks at Castiel with trepidation. “Can I—where should I—” 

“Here, invite him here. You don’t have to ask, ever.” Staring at him, Castiel hopes Dean understands. “ _ Whatever _ you need, consider this space yours, if you’d like.” 

Blinking hard, Dean furrows his brow before looking at Castiel through narrowed eyes. “Are you asking me to move in?”

“Well—haven’t you?” Not sure what else to say, Castiel just blinks back. He’s been considering this space Dean’s just as much as his for a while now, if he admits it. He hates when Dean isn’t here, he knows that. “I—I guess I’m not good at this but yes—we would like it if you’d live here, if you want to, that is,” he stammers. This isn’t going well. He imagined getting Dean his own key and presenting it, a whole thing and now he’s just blurting it out. Castiel sighs and looks at Dean with a shrug. 

The way Dean’s face melts into a hesitant smile makes Castiel relieved, Dean always accepting his awkwardness. “I guess it’s good Sam already thinks I live here then.” 

Dropping his gaze with a shy smile, Castiel nods. “I suppose.” 

“Hey,” Dean says, ducking his head to catch Castiel’s eye. “Thank you,” he says, soft, lovingly, that tender heart he shares with Castiel on display. “I really want to live here with you both.”

Castiel can’t help but love him so much. “Will Ash miss you?” 

Dean huffs. “Are you kidding? My bed was covered in computer parts when I went back—he’ll be thrilled for the extra space.” His face gets serious again. “Guess I’m gonna call Sam then.”

“I’ll start breakfast, give you some privacy.” Kissing Dean on the forehead, Castiel closes the door behind him when he leaves the room, and he can already hear Dean saying Sam’s name as he closes the door. He’s so proud of Dean’s strength. 

Pug’s still sleeping so Castiel starts the kettle and is slicing potatoes for a quick breakfast hash when Dean comes out of the bedroom, looking a little shaky. “He’s coming over, he’s gonna leave as soon as he can so I—I gotta—” 

It’s clear that Dean’s spinning out some and Castiel goes to him. “Hey, why don’t you start with a shower. Coffee will be ready by then.” He pushes a hand through Dean’s soft, natural hair. “I like this, just you.” 

Dean’s eyes widen like he’d forgotten that the dye has washed out of his hair and his hand gets halfway up before he relaxes and drops it back to his side. “You like it?” 

“I like all of you,” Castiel replies with a shrug. “Every single color.”

“It’s always given me like a boost, you know? Feels weird without it.” 

“Maybe Jo can come by, you could call her,” Castiel suggests, wanting Dean to be comfortable and confident no matter what he does. He knows it’s inside of him. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean murmurs back, pulling Castiel close. “What are you makin’ over there?”

Castiel can see a subject change when Dean presents one. “Breakfast hash,” he replies, going along with it. 

Eyebrows going up, Dean looks pleased. “The cheesy one with the runny eggs?” 

“And sourdough toast.” Castiel kisses that happy smile. “And I will not skimp on the hot sauce this time.” 

“Okay, I mean, after last time, we had to have that talk and—” 

“I thought you were getting in the shower?” Going back to their breakfast with a roll of his eyes, he doesn’t miss Dean’s smirk and it helps Castiel not feel as nervous about Sam coming over. Even as the shower starts up, he’s looking around to see if everything is tidy and acceptable. The apartment is mostly clean, both of them neat people and Castiel only has to pick up a few stray socks and books left around the couch.

He still dusts all the shelves after he gets the hash cooking and that’s how Dean finds him, his Motown cassette tape playing low as Castiel somewhat dances along as he dusts. He didn’t even realize he was doing it until warm hands slip around his waist. Dean smells fresh and clean when Castiel turns in his embrace and he buries his face shamelessly in the curve of his neck, wanting to breathe him and his sweetness in. 

Dean responds by holding him tight and kissing his hair. 

He’s nervous. It’s obvious in the way he takes up pacing as Castiel finishes breakfast, in the way he talks around sips of coffee, tries to work out what he’s going to say to his brother when he arrives. Pug wakes up just as they’re sitting down to eat and Dean scoops the sleepy pig right up to cuddle in his lap and share his breakfast. It’s why Castiel kept a small bowl of hash aside without seasoning, knowing Pug will love the warm potatoes and other veggies he threw in, cleaning out the fridge. 

His nerves don’t curb Dean’s appetite, Castiel pleased to watch him consume seconds and almost go for thirds until he changes his mind and starts the dishes instead. Castiel’s trying to wrestle Pug into his harness for his morning walk when Dean’s phone vibrates on the counter between them, a message from Sam lighting the screen. 

Castiel’s the closest and he leans in to see it’s just two simple words: “I’m here.” 

Dean shuts off the water and grabs a towel to dry his hands as he stares at Castiel with apprehension. “It’s gonna be fine, right?” 

“It’s going to be fine, Dean. I’ll go let Sam inside.” Castiel stands and leans in so Dean can kiss Pug.

Dean stops him before he goes. “You guys aren’t going far?”

Shaking his head, Castiel smiles gently. “It’s raining too much, you know the baby won’t want to be out. I’ll let him right up when we get back though.”

“What about you?” 

“You need time, I’ve got some work to do in the office.” Holding Pug, they head for the door. “Try not to break anything,” he calls out, hoping Dean takes it as the joke it’s intended. The middle finger Dean throws him makes Castiel think he does. 

He keeps Pug close as they go down and through the window, Castiel can see Sam’s tall form standing out in the storm, uncovered and huddled as best he can under the small overhang that’s hardly a cover from the rain. Castiel’s steps quicken as he goes to unlock the door, letting a soaked Sam inside. 

Water flies from his long, wet hair as he shakes his head, dripping into quite a large puddle at his feet. “Hey, sorry—I didn’t know where to wait and I didn’t want to miss him—” 

“Sam, it’s okay.” They’re both having to talk loud over the racket that Pug is making at the very tall man that he doesn’t know inside his house. Castiel tries to soothe him, stroking down his back as Pug looks between them. ‘Sorry, he’s—he doesn’t know you and—” How does he explain that Pug wants to make friends, that he’s expecting Castiel to hand him over so he can sniff Sam and get his attention? He shrugs instead. “Would you like to say hi to Pug?” 

The wary look Sam’s been wearing melts away when Castiel offers and he’s quick to open his arms for a second, before he looks down and notices he’s dripping wet. Struggling out of his black trench coat, he glances around before seeing Castiel nod towards the coat rack behind him. Hanging it with a sigh, Sam runs his hands through his hair a few times, slicking the water away before he straightens his grey sweatshirt, thrown on over jeans. It’s obvious he got dressed in a hurry because he’s wearing two different sneakers, a blue one and a black one. 

He looks down at his feet when he notices Castiel staring and he barks out a nervous laugh, before he’s rubbing a hand over his mouth to stop. It reminds Castiel of Dean, who does the exact same thing when he’s nervous. 

“I kinda left in a hurry,” is all Sam says. It’s all he needs to say to Castiel to warm him up to Sam, knowing how far he came, in the rain, all because his brother asked to see him. 

Castiel doesn’t hesitate to hand a squirmier Pug over to Sam when he opens his arms again. And Pug wastes no time trying to push his nose under Sam’s chin, squealing when Sam laughs, deep and rich at his attention. Castiel can almost watch the tension in Sam’s shoulders loosen. 

“You know, I always wanted a dog. Too bad Bela’s allergic.” Sighing, he scratches Pug under his chin before he’s handing him back to Castiel. “Cute little guy you got there, though.” 

“Thank you, he’s our little love bug.” Pug gnaws on Castiel’s knuckles for that. “Pig,” he corrects himself. “Grouchy love pig, my apologies.” 

Sam’s looking at him curiously when Castiel glances back up at him and Castiel’s pulse quickens. 

“I really am looking forward to getting to know you, Castiel.” 

His honesty takes Castiel aback. For all the stories Dean told, and the pride and love he has for his brother, Castiel was always hoping to hit it off with Sam. The way they met was probably the most disappointing part of his and Dean’s relationship, if he’s being honest but having Sam say something like that makes Castiel hopeful that they’re going to get a second chance. 

More importantly, that Sam and  _ Dean _ are going to, and that it’s going to start today. It reminds Castiel that he needs to get going, so Sam can get upstairs. 

He nods. “And I you, Sam.” Turning, he points towards the red staircase. “Please see yourself up, I believe Dean was making a fresh pot of coffee that should be done by now, and I think there was some leftover breakfast hash, if you’re hungry.” 

Sam smiles gratefully and pets Pug on the head as he goes by, only turning around a few steps past. “Thank you,” he states, no preamble. “For being someone who is so good for my brother.” 

“It’s  _ him  _ that’s good for me, for us.” Pug squeals, in firm agreement. “We all take care of each other. Please do the same when you enter our home.” 

Without hesitation, Sam nods, his face dead serious. “I will. I want my brother back.” 

Castiel watches Sam go, listens as he goes up the creaking stairs and only when he hears the door close, does Castiel put Pug down, and leave the store, his heart and mind a jumble of nerves, and hope, and a strange need to talk to his own brother, Castiel missing his twin for the first time in a long,  _ long _ time. 


	20. Chapter 20

When Castiel returns from his walk, it’s to find the brothers upstairs, sharing the couch and a pot of coffee. He had only slipped up there to drop off some pastry, sent by Donna when she saw him and Pug dodging raindrops. She gave him an entire box of pumpkin cookies and a bag of powdered donuts, along with a container of cooked oats for Pug, everything delicious for a rainy Saturday. 

Dean and Sam spend most of the morning talking and when Jo arrives around noon, armed with two large pizzas and her bag of hair supplies, Castiel knows that things will be okay. Leaving a few slices of pizza with Kevin, he escorts her upstairs where a lot of hugs are exchanged while Castiel gets out plates and serves drinks. He’s more than surprised when Jo corners him and hugs him, whispering thanks in his ear before her rough exterior is back in place. While they eat, Dean tries to pick out a hair color, ultimately letting Castiel make the final decision. 

Purple, much to Dean’s delight. He kisses Castiel without hesitation and the way he’s smiling when he pushes him out of the kitchen so Jo can set up brings a lightness back to Castiel’s heart that he’s missed. 

It’s also nice to see that Sam’s trying. Whatever they talked about seems to have had a positive outcome and Castiel won’t learn until later that hearing Dean recount their childhood as he lived it filled in a lot of blanks for Sam, things he’d assumed one way turning out to be another. It explains why he spends the afternoon looking a bit shell-shocked. Especially once they all get going, Jo putting on music so she can work, Dean still talking to Sam like he’s trying to make up for lost time, and Pug running around under all their feet, until Castiel has to block off the kitchen to keep him away from the dye. 

He hates it and spends most of his time standing on his hind feet against the baby gate and crying at Dean pitifully. 

It’s chaotic and loud and Castiel can’t remember the last time he’s laughed so hard and if this is what it’s going to be like living with Dean, Castiel finds that he cannot wait. 

Sam leaves in the evening, after he and Dean have taken Pug for his walk, that being the first time Dean’s left the apartment in a week. While part of Castiel had hoped to hold Dean’s hand through that, he knows it’s important for Dean and Sam to reconnect. 

Plus, Castiel has every night from here on out to walk with Dean by his side. He can concede a night here and there. 

Dean returns with Pug, only to leave again but this time, it’s to attend the seven-thirty Alcoholics Anonymous meeting on Fifth Street that Bobby mentioned. He doesn’t say much when he returns, but accepts the hot chocolate Castiel made him, and spends the night with his head resting in Castiel’s lap while he reads the first Harry Potter book out loud, something they started when Dean first arrived, when his eyes were too tired from crying and when he asked for Castiel’s help to get him out of his head. Castiel didn’t think Dean was expecting him to grab the book, but after the first few chapters, Dean was hooked. Castiel can’t read for long, even if he’s sipping tea but they’ve made their way to the last five chapters and Dean’s enjoying the dragons and has almost predicted the ending during their discussions more than once. 

Even though Dean doesn’t sleep another night away from Castiel’s, the reality of him moving in doesn’t set in for some time. They have keys made and submit address changes and spend almost an entire day running around the city taking care of logistics but it’s not until Castiel’s working downstairs one day and a package arrives addressed to Dean Winchester, and Castiel spends the better part of the morning staring at it in wonder, which is how Dean finds him when he returns from his afternoon walk. Pug runs for his water and Dean’s just excited to see that his paint was delivered, so it takes a moment for him to realize that Castiel’s just standing there grinning at him. 

“What’s got you lookin’ like a ray of sunshine over there, huh?” Dean can’t help but smile back.

“You live here.” Castiel grins wider. “With me.” 

Dean’s eyebrows go up. “You’re just now noticing? Been here two weeks already.” Emerald eyes dancing, he slides an arm around Castiel’s waist to pull him close and nose at his cheek. “And to think I almost had this delivered to the bar.” 

“Don’t tease, I’m just happy.” Castiel nuzzles Dean back, rubbing their stubble together. “Will you kiss me, please?”

Dean gives him a small, playful gasp. “During business hours? That’s against the rules.” 

“I make the rules,” Castiel states. “This one’s just been amended. If no customer’s come in for an hour, I can have all the kisses I want.” Going for it, he loses his soft smile when Dean pulls back. He steps back and leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. His hair sits in green spikes, like fresh cut grass, a solid contrast to the changing leaves outside. It makes his eyes shine and his freckles pop and why isn’t he kissing Castiel again? He’s allowing the rules to be broken so? 

“What’s up with that, by the way? Is it always this slow in here?” Dean wrinkles his brow as he thinks. “It was like this when I was hanging out during the day too.” 

Castiel frowns back. “You noticed?” He had assumed Dean was too preoccupied to notice how slow Castiel’s business is, but he should have known better. Dean notices everything. He sighs. “Business has been down and for a while. I had daydreams of making some changes, but I’ve been too busy to entertain them.” He looks around the empty store and shrugs. “The idea is bigger than what could be possible, so I should really just forget it.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “What was it?” 

Castiel glares back, not sure why they’re doing that. “I briefly entertained the idea of turning the store into a children’s book store. I’d gotten as far as pricing a collection when your—” Cutting himself off with a cough, he ignores Dean’s widening eyes. “It really isn’t feasible, financially anyway.” 

Face falling, Dean straightens. “Really?”

“I spent most of the estates money on the remodel, and most of my savings on my move here.” 

“Man, this village could use a kid’s bookstore. You know The Strand is always so crowded.” 

“I know.” Castiel sighs as his dreams of Pug in funny hats fades away. “Maybe I can make a children’s section, at the very least.” Maybe they could still host a reading time. Castiel had walked up to the other (much more famous) bookstore a few weeks ago to check out their story time and while it seemed fun, it also seemed very full. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods towards the section behind the reading area. “What about over there, I could paint something fun on that wall.” 

Right now the wall he’s referring to is blank and it makes Castiel even more disappointed about the whole thing. He’d rather not talk about it anymore. He crosses his arms over his chest like Dean’s done, clearing his throat to encourage Dean to stop looking around at the blank walls of the store. “So, as I was saying?” 

Dean’s turning back to him with a non-committal hum when Castiel grabs him and turns him the rest of the way so he can get that kiss he’s been aiming for. Seeing Dean’s eyes flair wide before they drift shut makes Castiel smug as he ends the conversation with a rather heavy make-out session, one that gets broken up by Kevin arriving for his shift, which goes about as well as can be expected when Kevin comes across them. He practically falls over himself trying to get past them and into the office without making eye contact. 

Castiel loves living with Dean. He wasn’t sure, at first, how their schedules would match up but aside from his daily dog walking schedule, Dean makes his own. In between a morning, two lunchtime, and an evening walk, Dean delivers packages around the village and surrounding area and he’s in and out of the store all day. Every time Castiel hears the squeak of his bike’s brakes as he’s stopping on the patio, his heart flutters around knowing Dean’s home. Home. With them. 

Pug loves it too. In addition to his normal morning walk (which now includes Dean most mornings), he sometimes gets to go along on Dean’s morning walk with his charges. Now that he’s a little older, he can last a lot longer between naps and two walks is a sure fire way for him to sleep hard before he’s up again for lunch. Dean’s usually home for that, putting together sandwiches or something else for them to eat. Sam stops by for lunch often, or if Dean’s downtown, they’ll have lunch near Sam’s office.

It’s been slow going for them to reconnect. Sometimes Dean comes home frustrated and it takes some time for him to thaw out and talk to Castiel about it, but it’s usually because the brothers had a disagreement, or Sam made a comment that didn’t sit right with Dean. Sam usually calls by the end of the night with some sort of apology, because Dean’s happy by the time they hang up. Their relationship is complicated, something Castiel can understand. 

He hasn’t spoken much to Jimmy. Rather than face the fact that the last time they saw each other, Castiel  _ hit _ him, he’s ignored it and gone back to liking Jimmy’s Facebook posts and communicating through Claire. It’s cowardly but the last time he saw his brother, he was cruel and dismissive of Castiel’s entire  _ life _ and even thinking about it now still irks him. 

Interestingly enough, the last time they saw each other, Castiel wasn’t sure where he and Dean stood and now, they’re living together. Castiel can’t help but wonder if Claire’s shared the news with her father yet. He can only imagine Jimmy’s reaction. 

Still, he can’t help but be envious when Dean and Sam start up with a story or do something especially brotherly, like fight over the last piece of pizza. But then he remembers that moments like that probably wouldn’t exist much between him and his twin, Castiel finding it rather difficult to imagine Jimmy existing comfortably in their space. In any space, actually.

It’s easy for Castiel not to think about, when the store and his time with Dean take precedence over any extra time Castiel has to think about his dysfunctional relationship with his twin.

At least until their birthday gets closer and closer on the calendar. September eighteenth is a day the twins haven’t spent together in over twenty years. He stares at the date wracked with guilt and for what? Jimmy is the one that should apologize to  _ him, _ not the other way around. Castiel hardly thinks helping Claire pursue her dreams was enough to warrant an apology on his part, but in hindsight, it’s possible he could have had a conversation with his brother about it, before he just acted. Regardless, the things Jimmy did and said in response to that were absurd and hurtful and even though it’s been some time, the hurt still feels raw whenever Castiel allows himself to wallow. 

It’s unfortunate that they’re so close geographically, and it looks like they will still end up spending their birthday apart. It makes Castiel not want to do anything at all. 

So, he goes back to ignoring it. Even the somewhat disconcerting feeling that creeps up on Castiel the nearer the date gets isn’t enough for him to act on it. 

In fact, he’s been spending all morning ignoring the calendar as he works, and now, he’s watching Dean go up and down the stairs with their laundry. Right after he moved in, he claimed laundry duties stating a lifelong loathing for laundromats, his excitement to have his own washer and dryer to use completely silly, sweet, and everything Castiel loves about Dean in one small action. 

Dean takes care of all the washing throughout the day and at night, they fold and put away their clean clothes together, usually over pizza and a movie of Dean’s choosing. Tonight they’re planning on Back to the Future and the way Dean’s been going on about it has Castiel excited for the viewing. Even if he has to fold socks and underwear while he does it. Dean always makes them a big bowl of popcorn once they’re done folding and that’s Castiel’s favorite part, when they’re cuddled under a blanket, Pug and their snack between them (some unsalted for him too). 

It’s peaceful, and perfect, and all Castiel needs. 

“Hey babe!” 

Dean calling him from the basement pulls Castiel from his musings. Minimizing the spreadsheet he’s in, Castiel stands from behind the desk. He’s been working in the office all morning on some accounting, a tedious task that he’s happy to be pulled away from. 

Stepping past Pug, asleep on his office pillow, Castiel trots down the stairs to the basement, still thinking about time travel and popcorn and as he gets to the bottom, he sees Dean standing beside a stack of boxes, the top one open. Dean asked to turn the basement into a workshop, and Castiel said he could, but only if he cleaned out the boxes (so Castiel wouldn’t have to). It was an easy deal to make. Smiling at him, Castiel asks about something that’s been on his mind. “Can you remind me again how they achieve time travel in tonight’s movie?” 

Dean’s nose wrinkles. “The flux capacitor, why are you—” He shakes his head. “Hey—don’t distract me, I called you down here for a reason.” 

The lack of levity in Dean’s tone makes Castiel take notice. He furrows his brow, confused. “What is it?” 

“Have you ever looked inside these boxes?” 

“I packed quite a few of them, but I think those are over by the shelves. And I believe I marked them.” Castiel looks around at the stacks and stacks of boxes. “But most of these were already down here… Why?” 

“So you don’t know anything about these books?” Pushing the flaps of the box open, Dean pulls out a hardcover book, an inch thick with a dark red cover that looks somewhat familiar to Castiel. There shouldn’t be any books down here though, all the store’s original inventory accounted for, thanks to a lot of Castiel’s time and hard work. 

He shakes his head and reiterates that to Dean. “There shouldn’t be any books down here.” 

“Okay? That’s what I thought. You spent all that time hauling your ass to Brooklyn and I knew you wouldn’t have missed so many books, there’s like three boxes of these.” He passes the book over to Castiel with a calculating look. “I thought that was weird too, so when I looked inside, I noticed something crazy.” He turns and pulls a small album from another open box. “Look, I found this, that’s your uncle right? Kinda looks like the Chuck I remember, but less hairy.” 

Barely looking at the book, the album is thrust under Castiel’s nose. One glance confirms that the photo is of his Uncle Chuck and upon closer inspection, Castiel thinks maybe it was sometime when he was young, Chuck looking like Castiel remembers him, his face clean shaven and his curly hair cut short. He didn’t grow his facial hair until the twins were in high school, tired of fighting them for time in front of the sink to shave. Confirming Dean’s inquiry with a nod, he furrows his brow. “I don’t understand.” 

“Open the back cover of the book,” Dean orders, taking the album back. “Look at the author photo.” 

Heart racing, Castiel looks at the title— _ Supernatural— _ before he turns the book over to open the back cover. Castiel has to blink and rub at his eyes because there’s no way—it’s not— 

Dean’s nodding, his eyes wide when Castiel looks up at him before looking back at the author photo—no, correction, the  _ authors’  _ photo. 

His Uncle Chuck, and what appears to be his identical twin, stare back at him. 

“Did you know Chuck wrote this book?”

“My uncle was a twin?” 

They speak at the same time and blink at each other in the next moment before Castiel’s shaking his head as Dean steps up to him, holding the photos side by side. “I had no idea—Dean, I think this is my father.” 

“Whoa,” Dean whispers, his eyes darting between the book and Castiel. 

Hands shaking, Castiel traces his fingers over the faces of the two men, both of them wearing matching, serious faces. The twin on the left is wearing a tweed jacket while his brother is in a plaid sweater vest. The one Castiel thinks is Chuck has his hair cut short and the other cut long, the waves floppy, and a lot like how Castiel’s hair gets when he goes too long between haircuts. 

This is impossible. 

Closing the book and turning it over, Castiel looks at the cover again, his mind racing. 

_ Supernatural  _ by James and Carver Edlund. 

“This—this book… Claire likes this book—this book is very popular.” Suddenly, the basement feels very, very small. Is it possible his uncle and his father  _ wrote _ this? Castiel doesn’t even realize he’s having trouble catching his breath until Dean is cupping his elbow and telling him to breathe. 

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs, get some fresh air in you, you’re starting to turn grey and it’s freakin’ me out,” he grumbles, trying to hide his concern as he guides Castiel up the stairs. Castiel lets Dean take him past a surprised Kevin and to the soft couch. He stares at the coffee table as Dean leaves him there. All he hears is a gruff, “watch him,” and then it’s Dean’s footsteps pounding down the stairs and Kevin’s shuffles to peer at Castiel and it’s like every sound is heightened, including the blood racing in Castiel’s ears. 

How is this possible? If his uncle  _ wrote _ a popular book, they would know, he and Jimmy would have  _ known. _ Would it even be possible for Chuck to keep such a secret? And why? Because of Castiel’s father? Because they were twins? It’s all far too confusing for him to focus on one thing to think about. 

Dean’s only brought up one box when he returns, which he places on the table in front of Castiel. He pulls out a few of the book copies and the album, along with some notebooks and a large, silver locked box. Kevin sits down and pulls a book towards him to flip through. It’s all just happening around him while Castiel feels like everything he’s ever known has been wrong. 

Ignoring everything else, Dean has the silver lock box in his hands and he’s examining the small lock before holding the box up to his ear and giving it a firm shake. The box doesn’t rattle, the only sound like something thick and solid getting tossed around inside. 

“What the fuck,” Dean mutters before he looks at Castiel. “Seen any small keys around that don’t have a home? There was nothing else in the box.” 

Castiel shakes his head absentmindedly. He didn’t come across any random keys that he can remember. He can’t quite piece together much of anything at the moment. “Is there any other way you can get it open?”

He watches as Dean squints for another minute at the box, before he’s digging out his pocket knife and flipping it open, raising an eyebrow at Castiel for permission. Swallowing down his nerves, Castiel nods and winces when Dean jams the tip of the sharp blade into the tiny lock. He’s scratching the hell out of the box but Castiel can’t be bothered, only sitting up straight when the lock makes a tiny little clicking noise. 

“Yahtzee,” Dean murmurs, closing his pocket knife with a quick flick of his wrist before he stuffs it back into his pocket. “Let’s see what secrets of the universe old Chuck was keeping in here.” 

Castiel kind of doesn’t want to know. 

But that doesn’t stop Dean from pulling open the box and removing a thick stack of paperwork. He discards the lock box on the couch and furrows his brow as he reads. 

“I’ve seen this name before.” Kevin sounds confused, still looking at the book.

Castiel almost had forgotten he was there. “It’s a bestseller,” he replies weakly.

Kevin shakes his head. “No, I’ve seen it  _ here _ .” Tossing the book on the table, he stands and takes off for the office and Castiel can only watch him go because, what the hell else could happen? 

Dean, meanwhile, is still reading. “This is some crazy shit, Cas. I think this is a publishing contract and there’s some other papers here that say  _ business entity _ on top of them,” he trails off, glancing back at Castiel. Whatever he sees makes him drop the paperwork back into the box and sit down rather quickly. “Hey, it’s okay, can you breathe for me?”

A sharp pain in Castiel’s chest and Dean’s words remind Castiel that he’s stopped doing that and he drags in a shaky breath as he looks frantically into Dean’s eyes. “Is this possible, Dean? How? How could he never—why wouldn’t he tell us—” Castiel’s starting to lose his grip and Dean quickly cups his face. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this all out, I just need you to breathe for me okay? Can’t have you freakin’ out on top of everything, come on. I know you can keep it together for me.” He kisses Castiel and the moment their lips brush together, Castiel can feel his pulse start to settle. Trying to do as Dean’s asked, he takes deep, slow breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth as Dean nods and does the same, encouraging Castiel to continue until he feels somewhat coherent again. 

“Okay?” Dean’s looking anxious and Castiel nods to reassure him. “Okay then.” Letting Castiel’s face go, he leans back and rubs a hand over his mouth. 

Castiel surveys the table, his eyes landing on the book. Reaching for it, he opens it to the photo again. It’s surreal, bizarre, and incredibly disconcerting to stare at a person with a face so familiar who is a complete and total stranger to him. And also, his father. 

The mountain of information Castiel thought he didn’t know is turning out to be a molehill. 

The photo is faded but both men share the striking blue eyes they passed on to Castiel and Jimmy. 

Fuck. Jimmy. 

“Dean, I have to tell my brother.” That panicky feeling is creeping back into his chest and he has to close the book before it overwhelms him. 

Dean’s immediately shaking his head in response. “Wait, wait, let’s back up. I think we should let Sam look at these before we call the angry twin, no? At least see what we’re looking at before you have to go drop something this big on him?” 

Castiel’s heart slows back to a normal pace. Dean’s right. Yes, Castiel needs to tell Jimmy what’s going on, but he also needs a better understanding before he takes it to his brother, who’s first call will be to his lawyer. 

The thought of it all is exhausting and Castiel wishes he were back to thinking about popcorn and time travel. 

“Please call Sam, I’d even be willing to go to him, need be.” Castiel wants answers. 

Dean nods tightly. “On it, babe.” Standing, he digs his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a few times before he’s putting to his ear. 

Castiel puts his head in his hands and tries to breathe. Only familiar,  _ comforting  _ clicks of little hooves on the hardwood and Kevin’s familiar steps pull his head up and him out of his misery. “Baby,” he murmurs as Pug comes straight to him, whining and crying, instantly feeling the sour vibrations in the air that Castiel knows are coming off him in waves. He scoops his little friend up to reassure him, sad he had to wake up to this. “I’m sorry, daddy is sorry, it’s okay, we’re okay, see—Dean’s okay.” 

Pug is nosing and kissing at his neck, just wanting to be as close to Castiel as possible and Castiel has to take a steadying breath. He needs to be strong for Pug. This is just another thing to get through. 

“Hey, Cas, I need to show you something.” Kevin stands next to where Castiel sits, office laptop open and in hand. “I knew I had seen that name before and I was right, look.” 

Distracted by Kevin’s arrival and brow furrowed, Dean shuts his phone off in favor of grabbing Pug and getting closer so he can look at what Kevin’s presenting. Castiel takes the computer, only to see the folder open for their accounting, the same one he left open earlier when he was working. 

“I don’t understand.” Castiel can only see his normal documents and webpages to their accounts in the folder’s open window. 

Ducking down, Kevin mutters a curse. “It scrolled up, sorry.” A flick of his finger on the track pad has the document list scrolled all the way to the bottom, a link to a webpage last on the list, the file name simply  _ edlund. _

“I found it when I started doing the online orders, I was checking the accounts for the deposits from Venmo and I had created a new spreadsheet, to track them by month, you know? And I always run a search when I need a document and I mistyped and yeah—that came up.” 

Castiel closes his eyes and tries to process all that Kevin just said. “What is this?” 

“Money,” Kevin replies with a shrug.

Hands shaking, Castiel’s eyes flick to Dean’s and he finds the strength he needs to double click the file to open it. 

A website for Capital One Bank loads, the username and password already pre-filled. All Castiel has to do is click  _ sign in.  _ So he does.

“Holy shit.”

“What the fuck!” 

The account balance contains six digits—no, close—astoundingly close—to seven. Castiel’s mouth goes dry just looking at it. 

“Cas, you’re fuckin’ rich,” Dean whispers. “I got myself a sugar daddy.” 

Castiel bursts out laughing. He can’t help it, he can’t stop, and he rocks back into the couch cushions overcome with laughter. This is so absurd. That amount of money is ludicrous, it's impossible,  _ insane. _ Yes, that’s what’s happening. Castiel’s losing it. 

Maybe he’s dreaming. That helps the laughter subside, at least. Because he must be dreaming, that’s the only logical explanation. He’ll ask Dean to make them some eggs with toast for breakfast when he finally wakes up from this impossible reality. 

Smiling at Dean and Kevin, both of them completely befuddled, he opens his hands for his pig, making a grabbing motion. “What kind of pizza should we order tonight?” 

“Are you okay?” Kevin’s distraught. “Is he okay?” Looking to Dean, he doesn’t find an answer because Dean’s just as confused. He motions for Kevin to take the computer away, and he kneels down beside Castiel, pulling Pug away to put him down. 

The little pig runs for water as Dean takes Castiel’s hands. “Hey, sweetheart, did you go offline at that dollar amount? I don’t blame you.” Leaning in, he presses a soft kiss to Castiel’s forehead and it makes him nervous. “Do you think I should like, splash you with water or...” He chews his bottom lip in worry. 

“Why? Do you want to wake me up? We’re very rich in this dream, I could buy you anything you’d like. A new bicycle perhaps?” Castiel blinks sweetly at him. He’d give Dean just about anything, if he’s being honest. 

“Hate to break it to you but uh, this ain’t Oz, darlin’ and you ain’t dreamin’.” Still worried, Dean waits for Castiel to react. 

Castiel waits too. If what Dean says is  _ true _ , that could mean a lot to them, to his family. He already knew things were changing but this, this just feels too big. Giving himself another moment to run such a thing through his head a few more times, logic begins to set in. 

There must be some kind of mistake. That would explain something so, so—so unbelievable. 

“How can you be sure these things are connected? Kevin? Dean, this must be a mistake, we probably shouldn’t even be looking at that.” 

Dean frowns, considering Castiel’s words, but Kevin shakes his head. “I don’t think so, this is still getting deposits.”

“Then how could it belong to us? I’m fairly certain my deceased uncle and long deceased father are no longer publishing books.” Even as he says it, Dean’s shaking his head and so is Kevin.

“Royalties, Cas, remember all that paperwork?” Dean’s quiet to remind him and like a lock clicking into place, Castiel knows there’s no way that money  _ isn’t _ theirs. Any decent publishing deal comes with royalties, payment forever, essentially, as long as the book is selling. 

And this book  _ sells. _ It’s been on the Top Twenty Best Sellers list for going on four years, at least, as far as Castiel can remember. People still ask him if he carries it, almost weekly. 

Castiel thinks he might be sick as the room begins to spin.

“Whoa, hey!” Dean’s strong and steady hands are on Castiel’s shoulder. “Kevin—water,” he barks over his shoulder, prompting the boy to close the laptop and go behind the counter where Castiel always keeps an extra water bottle. 

“Look at me, Cas, come on.” Dean’s steady gaze helps, it’s all Castiel can focus on, everything else swimming. “Can you drink this for me?” The cool metal of his bottle makes Castiel blink when Dean presses it into his palm and he helps Castiel raise it to his lips, the cold water clearing the rest of his vision as it wets his parched mouth. Water has never tasted so good to Castiel in his life. 

He drains the bottle and when he’s done, he wipes the back of his mouth with his sleeve. Castiel’s far from okay, but he’s a hundred times better, now that he’s had something to drink. 

Dean huffs and runs his hands up and down Castiel’s arms as he glances over Castiel’s face warily. “Better?” 

Castiel nods. “This is a lot,” he whispers before dragging in a deep breath, his chest shuddering with it. The fog in his brain lifts a little more. “Can you try to call Sam again, please?” 

Studying him for another moment until he’s satisfied, Dean nods. “‘Course, sweetheart. Want more water?” 

“Yes, please,” he answers, grabbing Dean’s wrist when he goes to leave him on the couch. Dean immediately drops back down to his side. “Thank you, Dean, I—I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Nowhere else I’d be, Cas,” he says, kissing Castiel softly. He can’t help but chase Dean’s lips when he pulls back. “I’ll get Sam over here, stat.” 

The afternoon passes slow. Along with the legal documents and the books, the boxes are filled with journals, all written by his uncle, all dating back years, some even before the twins came to live with him. Castiel busies himself with organizing them by date instead of reading them because he isn’t sure he can handle any more surprises and there’s no way to know what secrets are being kept between the pages of those journals. 

He has them organized in neat stacks on the coffee table upstairs and he’s staring them all down when Sam arrives to look at the documents they found. 

Not hesitating for a moment, Sam dives into the paperwork with precision and care while Dean keeps the coffee and tea coming for all of them. At some point in the evening, pizza shows up, Pug gets walked, and Castiel gets checked on as he begins to read about the history of his family, giving in after Dean made him sit down for the hundredth time and just open the first one. 

He held Castiel’s hand through three full notebooks before Castiel could let him go. 

Their Uncle Chuck was a prolific writer. The journals start when the twins were young, just twelve when they were moved from their childhood home in Pontiac, Illinois after their mother passed away. They settled in the Bronx and the journals detail a life growing up poor, with his brother as his only friend and essentially, Chuck’s only family, their father all but absent with work and like some sickening loop none of them can be free of—an extremely toxic drinking problem. 

He takes a break when he reaches their college years, when both twins attend NYU, Chuck as an English major and James, finance, of all things. It’s eerily reminiscent of him and Jimmy’s education choices, more impossible things on a day filled with them. 

At least what Sam finds puts things a little straighter. 

The publishing contract is solid, it’s why it’s been paying off for as long as it has. There’s a small publishing house that stays afloat, mostly because of Supernatural’s sales and a few off shoots that Sam’s convinced all tread on copyright issues, if Castiel thinks they should examine it closer. He also finds a trust, it’s sole trustee being Chuck, revised after James’ death. The rights to the twin’s pen names are in the name of the trust and Sam lets Castiel know he’ll look into things further to see if Chuck’s death with no forwarding trustee makes the rights void. 

They spend over an hour in the office scanning everything, including all of Castiel’s copies of the documents he already had, like Chuck’s will and all the legal documents he had to sign when he took over the building and business. Castiel’s exhausted, but so, so grateful as they see Sam off.

“Sam, I can’t thank you enough for coming over here on such short notice. I—apparently I’ve come into some money, and I’d be happy to pay you for your time, and advice.” He gives Sam a slight grimace, knowing all the work that seems to lay ahead. 

Chuckling and shaking his head, Sam pulls on his coat. Castiel notices a rainbow pin that seems familiar fixed to the lapel that wasn’t there before. “I don’t charge family, Cas.” 

A small bloom of warmth blossoms in Castiel’s chest. His eyes flick to Dean and the pride on Dean’s face is clear. When he notices Castiel looking at him, he flushes and looks down to hide his grin. 

The ball of warmth gets bigger. 

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean answers gruffly as he takes Castiel’s hand, speaking for both of them. “Means a lot to us that you came down here.”

“Like I said Dean, anything for family.” He grins at both of them. “And pizza.” Before he leaves, he goes to shake Dean's hand. “I’ll have something for you by morning, I already have a few people working on this."

To say he’s surprised when Dean pulls him into a hug is an understatement, but Sam quickly melts into his big brothers embrace. 

Castiel attempts a hug, but of course feels awkward and they kind of pat each other on the back a few times before Dean is pulling them apart with a chuckle. 

"We're working on that." He throws a comforting arm around Castiel's shoulders and it helps him with his embarrassment. "Night, Sammy. Text when you get home safe."

"Night, guys." Sam is smiling when he leaves and they watch him climb into a taxi to take him back to his office where his car waits. 

Castiel immediately turns into Dean's embrace and stays there, plans to stay as long Dean will let him. The store's been closed for hours, Kevin long since locked up and gone home. Aside from a slight wind and a distant siren, the village is quiet as they stand together so Castiel can feel like he's finally able to breathe for the first time all day. 

He can always find himself in the warmth of Dean's arms. 

A kiss to his hair has Castiel sighing as they pull apart.

"What do you need, Cas? Shower? More tea? Blow job?" Said with a wiggle of Dean's eyebrows, Castiel can't help but laugh and the tension in his shoulders lessens.

"Yes, please," he replies, smiling slightly. He wouldn’t mind any of the above, but he thinks it would be best to start with the shower. 

Dean makes him a cup of tea while he takes one and sets Castiel up in bed with extra blankets and his sleeping pig so Castiel can continue with the journals. Settling in next to him, Dean begins to read  _ Supernatural, _ which Castiel learns was written by the twins while they were in school. There had been scribbles of plot ideas and potential enemies through all the journals, like these stories were always inside of Chuck and just waiting for the chance to be told. 

The brothers sold their book to the small publishing house, Heavenly Host Books shortly after graduation. By then, Castiel’s father had met his mother Naomi and Castiel can’t help but eat up those parts, any information about his parents and how they met filling a hole inside him that Castiel had written off as being possible. They met at a Vietnam war protest, in Washington Square Park, of all places. Castiel can’t help but look fondly to Dean after he reads that, his beautiful boyfriend fast asleep, book still open on his chest, a very dignified and cute bit of drool on his chin while he snores softly, Pug sleeping on his back in the sliver of space between them with all four of his feet in the air and Dean’s hand cupping his side.

It reminds him that his reality is right here, sleeping beside him and not between the pages of these journals where Castiel’s gotten lost in the story of his family's past. Heart full, Castiel considers stopping for the night but there’s not much left to the journal he’s on and a few more stories about his parents couldn’t hurt. 

It seems they spent a lot of time with Chuck, even while they dated, Chuck only mentioning a few people he was interested in between the pages. As far as Castiel knew, he remained a bachelor until he died. There’s quite an excited entry about the birth of Castiel and Jimmy, and Castiel’s pleased to find a newspaper clipping of their birth announcement from The Village Voice. 

Glancing at the clock, Castiel realizes that the birth announcement he’s staring at is officially now thirty-nine years old. 

The entries get further apart but always with updates on the growth of the twins, Chuck’s entries showing how much he enjoyed being an uncle, and how often he spent with his brothers family. Castiel’s too enamored himself to realize the impending doom, until he turns the page and a folded, and equally old piece of newspaper falls from inside the crease of the spine where it’s been kept since it was put there, Castiel’s almost sure of it.

Castiel picks it up and with shaking hands, unfolds the obituary belonging to his parents. 

Seeing his own name next to his brothers in print as the surviving members of their family is what makes his sob break the silence of their bedroom. 

Dean sits straight up in bed with a startled gasp, only taking a moment to realize why he woke up and guilt racks Castiel when the book falls to the floor and Pug wakes up with a yawn and a cry as Dean squishes him between them while he tries to get his arms around Castiel. 

“Honey, what happened, what did you find?” Dean’s kissing his cheeks and all Castiel can do is cry and lean into Dean’s neck to hide his face. Some shuffling and encouragement from Dean has Pug scooting into his bed on the floor, annoyed snuffles turning back into snuffling snores as Castiel tries to get it together. Dean doesn’t let him go, keeping an arm around him when Castiel finally pulls out of the curve of his neck.

“The obituary says they were lost in a violent attack, what could that mean?” Castiel’s heart aches at all the possibilities in which his parents suffered, the life that Chuck described for all of them, shattered in one act of hatred. “Please, take this away, I don’t think I can read anymore.” 

“Do you want me to see if it says how…” Dean takes the journal and trails off, unsure. Castiel’s first instinct is to say no, but he knows that he can’t hide from the truth. It's what Chuck did for years, it’s why he’s here today and it’s time that way of thinking ends. And if Dean’s willing to do the hardest part and read the words first, Castiel’s grateful. He rests his head on Dean’s shoulder and sighs as Dean studies the pages. 

“It’s mostly notes about you and your brother…  _ Castiel loves to listen to the birds in the morning _ —aww, that’s cute…  _ Jimmy hates whole milk.” _

“Still true, he’s been off dairy for years,” Castiel mumbles.

Dean clicks his tongue. “No ice cream? That takes willpower I do  _ not _ have.” 

“Me either,” Castiel says with a slight smile as Dean goes on.

“ _ Cassie won’t sleep unless I’m holding him. _ Man, you sound like the cute twin.” 

“I still am,” he grumps, his tears subsiding. How Dean can slow his racing mind so easily is a comfort Castiel never knew he’d rely on so heavily. He’s glad for it, and for Dean’s gentleness when he gets to the darkness.

It was a mugging gone violently wrong that took the lives of James and Naomi Novak on an early spring night, six months into the twins short life. They were coming home from dinner and a movie, their babies safe at home with their uncle, all three of them blissfully unaware that their lives would change forever that night. 

While Dean tells him the specifics, he holds Castiel together as he falls apart yet again, his heart devastated by the loss, its senseless, savage nature, and the pain and fear his parents must have gone through in their last moments on earth. 

It’s with increasing clarity that Castiel understands why Chuck kept this a secret for so long, especially when the twins were still too young to understand. What he can’t comprehend is why they were never told, even as adults. Castiel can remember a time when they both inquired about their family history, the resulting fight big enough that it was never brought up again but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t handle the information when they reached adulthood.

Castiel has no idea how long Dean holds him, but he never waivers. It takes a while for Castiel to stop shaking and Dean’s love and reassurances don’t stop until he’s still, until he’s breathing steady, even after every outburst of pain and sorrow that Castiel can’t keep inside. He’s too exhausted to try, and he knows without any doubt that he’s safe to do so because Dean will be there to help piece him back together, no matter how long it might take. 


	21. Chapter 21

When dawn breaks, Castiel opens his eyes feeling battered, bruised, but content to wake up in Dean’s strong arms. As the morning sunlight filters through their curtains and gives the room a soft glow, Dean gathers Castiel closer to start their day off with a kiss, once he realizes Castiel is awake. 

It’s deep, slow, soul searching in the way only Dean knows how and Castiel can feel the tattered parts of his broken heart being stitched back together with each press of Dean’s lips between whispered promises that they’ll get through this together, that Castiel won’t have to shoulder any of this on his own, a fact Castiel knew without hearing Dean say it out loud.

And while he’s beyond grateful, Castiel knows he has to bring this information to his brother alone. And today, of all days. On top of it all, he has a growing sense that Dean won’t be pleased to learn that today’s his birthday. They’ve only ever talked broadly about their birthdays, Castiel knowing Dean’s is in January but that’s it.

Sighing, Castiel closes his eyes. “Today is my birthday,” he confesses, causing Dean to freeze, his lips pressed to the underside of Castiel’s jaw. 

“What,” he mumbles, pulling back, confused. A stubborn piece of purple hair sticks up in the back of his head and his eyes are sleepy and sweet. “It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me?” He pulls all the way away, blinking more now and growing more disappointed, and Castiel’s heart sinks. “I’m sorry, hon, if I’d known I’d—shit, I wouldn’t just be laying around, I’d be making you breakfast.” 

Castiel nearly chokes on the mix of relief and almost yearning for whatever Dean might have been motivated to come up with to make him feel special, but instead of thinking about that, he pulls Dean back to him.

“Please don’t, I didn’t mention it.” He hides his face in the curve of Dean’s neck where it smells like sleep and dreams and not this conversation. “I haven’t celebrated my birthday in years.

Frowning more, Dean pulls away, taking Castiel’s hiding spot with him. “Why not?” 

Castiel got tired of celebrating alone. Rather than admit to that, he half shrugs. “It’s never been important.” 

If it wasn’t for Claire singing him the birthday song via Facetime, most years Castiel would rather forget about the day. And this year, the brief notion of celebrating with Jimmy was foolish of him to imagine, even to begin with. 

And now he has to go uptown and sour the day even further. 

Dean chews his lip, lost in thought. “Well, I think it is.” 

He doesn’t want to talk about this, not with everything he has to do today. “Dean, please, I need to go see Jimmy.” Sighing, Castiel rolls back into the sheets, exhausted at even getting out of bed. Pug is still sleeping in his blankets and Castiel envies the little pig. “If I time it right, I can arrive after he’s finished work. Would you be able to close the store for me?” It’s Kevin’s day off and Castiel scheduled him that way, knowing it would be easier to work through his birthday than think about ignoring it. 

“Of course, Cas, anything you need. But only if you tell me why you hate your birthday.”

Castiel makes a frustrated noise. “Is that really of import right now?” 

“Hey, hey, settle down tiger, I’m only askin’ because I’d have liked to plan a special dinner or somethin’, at least get you a gift.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he mumbles, his cheeks warming. Castiel knew he was foolish to keep this from Dean and now he feels worse.

“I want to,” Dean insists. “Makes me happy to see you smile, sunshine.” He noses at Castiel’s cheek and it eases his embarrassment some. 

“I don’t hate my birthday, I’ve just—” For some reason, tears well in Castiel’s eyes and he takes a sharp breath to keep them from spilling over. He swallows them back thickly. “It’s never been special to anyone but me and that gets tiring so it’s easier to say it’s not a big deal.” He shrugs again to fight off his vulnerability. 

Dean doesn’t hesitate to cup his cheek to turn them face to face, and Castiel can’t stop the few tears that fall. Brushing them away with his thumb, Dean kisses him. “You’re a pretty big deal to me, Cas. And you of all people deserve a day to feel special.” 

With a wet huff, Castiel nuzzles into Dean’s palm, his heart full to bursting with Dean’s love. “You do that for me every day, why does this day have to be different?” 

“Because there would be pie involved,” he answers, his mirth obvious as he plays serious.

“Is that so? Apple, maybe?” Dean’s apple pie is Castiel’s favorite and if he gets to choose one, that would be it. 

“How do you feel about _ caramel _ apple?” 

Castiel’s mouth waters and Dean grins before he kisses Castiel again. And again, and again, until a very insistent pig wakes them, demanding to go out. Dean tries to go without him but Castiel insists on coming along, just wanting to enjoy some peace before the day has to begin.

They walk around the park, hand in hand, Pug trotting between them. Dean dressed him in his new rainbow hoodie, bought special for the cooling weather and his tail flips with happiness as they enter the park. The usual street performer tips his fedora but doesn’t stop singing his show tunes, Dean humming along as they walk by. 

“West Side Story today, huh Gabe? Good choice, buddy.” Dean shoots the performer a finger gun and he gets a nod and a grin in response. 

They stop at Donna’s, Dean insisting on buying Castiel a birthday cup of tea. _ Somehow, _ there’s an iced lemon donut (which happens to be Castiel’s favorite) with a candle stuck in it just for him, and Donna happily giggles at Castiel’s blush and gives him a tight birthday hug and their food and drinks on the house. 

Dean plays innocent but doesn’t seem to mind when Castiel kisses him silly in thanks when they get back upstairs. He’s enough of a distraction until they part ways so Dean can begin his daily walks and then Castiel allows work to become a distraction as he opens the store and goes about the day. 

It’s incredibly taxing. He takes some time to organize the documents he intends to bring to Jimmy, along with a few copies of the book, and the photo album. He keeps going back to it. A lot of the photos are of the city, and of Chuck, but towards the back of the album, there are photos of him and James when they were young, and it’s those he can’t stop looking at. 

All the photos are of the twins around their brownstone in the Bronx, a handful of them through the years, similar to pictures he’s sure exist of him and Jimmy, perhaps in one box still waiting to be opened. The photo he has framed has been the only one of them he’s had and he can’t help but be a little hopeful about it. 

For now, he has these glimpses into his families past. 

While he was reading last night, Dean scanned all the photos to make digital copies and Castiel plans to leave everything he’s taking with Jimmy, to give him time to go through them and process, much like Castiel’s been able to do. 

He’s nervous, even as he pulls on his trench coat and Dean kisses him goodbye, promising birthday pie for later. Something to look forward to, he supposes. Before he can leave however, Dean hands him another bag with two small white boxes inside. 

Castiel furrows his brow as he looks at Dean. “What’s this?”

Dean coughs and kicks at the ground, like he wasn’t expecting to provide an explanation. He shrugs. “One personal sized vanilla cake and one chocolate. For you and your brother.” 

Eyes wide, he looks at Dean in surprise. “You remembered?” They’d only talked about that once, in passing, amid an otherwise crazy day at Sam’s. And Dean remembered. Accepting the bag, Castiel pulls Dean close to him with a hand wrapped around his neck. “You’re amazing, did you know that?” 

“I mean, yeah,” Dean mumbles, embarrassed but eager to accept the kisses Castiel leaves him with. Castiel’s lucky, Dean makes him feel like the luckiest man in the world, getting to be the one Dean loves. 

But even that, and the strength Dean passes on to him isn’t enough to make Castiel feel prepared as he gets buzzed up to Jimmy’s penthouse. Claire is waiting with a hand on her hip when the elevator doors open. 

“Why didn’t you answer my calls earlier? Why are you _ here _ ? What is going _ on _?” 

All valid questions and instead of an answer, Castiel places his bags down so he can wrap Claire into a tight hug. 

“Uncle, you’re kinda scaring me.” Her voice waivers. 

Kissing her hair, Castiel lets her go and shakes his head. “I need to see your dad. Please don’t worry, everything will be fine. And before you tell me that’s _ crap, _ I only ask that you trust me for now.” Castiel isn’t so sure that everything will be okay, but he can be positive. Hopefully his face doesn’t give away his trepidation. 

Claire is still frowning, but she walks inside anyway, glancing back at him the whole way through the house. He doesn’t see his sister-in-law anywhere but he doesn’t ask, just wanting to get through this, now that he’s here. 

They reach Jimmy’s closed office before she turns to him and despite not knowing anything, Claire still gives him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Good luck, uncle. And happy birthday.” 

“Thank you,” he replies, grateful for her. 

Jimmy stands from behind his desk when Castiel enters, after a brief knock on the door. 

“Castiel? What’s happened? Is everything okay?” He’s rightly concerned to see Castiel in his doorway. Stepping inside, he takes in the room as he shuts the door behind him. Jimmy’s office is sharp, sleek, its large windows showing off an impressive view of the city and a small corner of Central Park. A desk lamp lights the large mahogany desk that dominates the room and its surface is littered with papers and a tumbler of an amber liquid that Castiel has no problem ignoring. 

“There’s no emergency.” Castiel clears his throat. “Happy birthday.” 

Jimmy raises an eyebrow, looking less worried. “I doubt you came all the way up here to say that.” 

Castiel hopes that one day, that will be the only reason. The whole way here, Castiel worried about how Jimmy would react. Always the sensible one between them, Castiel knows he needs to present Jimmy with facts, with what is real and not based on the wild fluctuation of Castiel’s emotions in the last twenty-four hours. Jimmy won’t accept any other explanation. 

So Castiel does his best with the information he has. Jimmy’s eyes grow wider and wider as Castiel tells him the whole story, from finding the boxes, to having the documents looked at already by a lawyer which turns into a story about who the lawyer is, and how his big brother has come to be one of the most important people in Castiel’s life. 

As he talks, he pulls out document after document and Jimmy just watches as Castiel lines them up in order, the journals following. Before he gets to those, he takes out the bank statements.

“Sam said we shouldn’t have a lot of trouble getting that money out of the trust, even with the large dollar amount, considering we’re Chuck’s trustees. The rights to the pen names is still in question, unfortunately. Hopefully it falls under the umbrella of the trust.” He clears his throat. “Sam has a call in to a probate lawyer he trusts.” 

“I know of one, as well,” Jimmy replies, distracted by the bank statement he’s reading. He does a double take when he sees the amount, and he brings the paper closer to his face. “This can’t be real—Castiel, is this _ real _?” 

“Far as we can tell,” Castiel confirms. “Happy birthday?” 

Jimmy sits back in his chair and takes a long sip of his drink. He stares at Castiel over the rim of his glass and continues to do so until Castiel shifts in his seat. His eyes flick to the stack of journals. Castiel only brought what he had already read, but he doesn’t want Jimmy to be surprised. Since his brother is just staring at him, Castiel fills the quiet. 

“Chuck kept journals. There’s a lot of information about how they wrote the book.” Castiel resists the urge to grab one to flip through, just so he can do something with his hands. “Chuck and our father were roommates through college until he met our mother.” 

His brother sits up at that. “There’s stuff about—” Jimmy cuts himself off as Castiel nods. Jimmy levels their gazes, expression unreadable, only the clench of his jaw giving away his distress. “Tell me, then.”

Castiel hates every minute spent and every single word said. He hates the way Jimmy tries to stay stoic, the way the light leaves his eyes as Castiel tells the story of their parent’s demise, even as his own heart aches. He hates that he has to be the one to do this, hates that this is the way Jimmy has to find out the worst parts of their past. 

“I’m so, so sorry,” Castiel says, meaning it, meaning every word. “I hate that it’s today and I hate that this is so awful. I—”

Surprised, he leans back when Jimmy stands abruptly, coming around his desk just as quick, Castiel barely having time to stand and put one hand up to defend himself when his twin is yanking him by the lapel into a rough hug. His hand fists the back of Castiel’s coat and he buries his face into Castiel’s shoulder. 

All Castiel can do is hug him back as he goes through it until Jimmy can let go. 

His twin is silent for a long time until he pulls himself away from Castiel with a loud, deep breath. Sighing, he separates them, but keeps a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “You should have called me when you found these, I could have helped.” 

“I—I was in a bit of shock, I think I scared Dean,” Castiel admits. “Plus I didn’t know how you’d react. Every time I see you, it’s a disagreement or _ worse _ and it was—well, it was quite an overwhelming day on its own.” 

Jimmy studies him and sighs again, before he drops his hand and sits heavily into the seat he’s standing next to. Castiel sits back in his chair by his side, not sure what else there is to say. 

“Can I get you a drink? Cup of tea?” 

Surprised Jimmy remembered, Castiel raises his eyebrows. “Tea would be nice, thank you.” 

Jimmy puts his hands on the chair’s arms so he can push himself up, like he really doesn’t want to move. Castiel doesn’t blame him, not looking forward to his long trek home but wanting to get there very badly.

Grabbing the bag containing their cakes, he begins to pull them out when Jimmy makes a surprised noise as he opens his office door. 

“Claire! We talked about your eavesdropping!” 

“And?! What’s going on, why are you guys talking about that book and Uncle Chuck? You have to tell me if it’s family related,” she demands and Castiel hides his smile. She really is the fiercest one of them all. 

“Claire Marie,” Jimmy warns. “Turn yourself around and go make a pot of tea.” 

Claire makes a noise of protest. 

“And bring it back with three cups. You’ll be joining us,” her father cuts her off smoothly, ignoring Claire’s shocked expression. “Now, Claire.” 

With that, he shuts the door in her face. 

Castiel claps a hand over his mouth to hide his amusement and Jimmy’s eyes dance when he turns back to him. 

“She hated that,” Jimmy muses, as he walks back to sit beside Castiel. 

“She really did,” Castiel agrees. “But thank you for allowing her to come in. I’d rather not keep this a family secret any longer.” 

Jimmy hums, reaching over to grab his tumbler. He swallows what’s left with a grimace. “I can’t believe they were twins.” 

Castiel still can’t believe it, and he’s had over twenty-four hours to process it. “It seems like they were close though.” He clears his throat. “I’m envious, if I’m being honest.” If there was ever a time for it, it’s now. 

Jimmy sighs, frustrated. “Castiel, you know it’s been difficult—” 

“Jimmy, come on,” Castiel interrupts, not wanting to be misunderstood. “I’m not trying to pick a fight, I promise. But it is the truth.” It was all Castiel could think about as he read the journals. “Please just do me a favor and read these. I don’t think we’ll be too far apart on this once you’re done.” He looks down at his hands. “I hope not, anyway.” 

Castiel is of the opinion that they’ve wasted a lot of time not being friends. Too long, his sixteen-year-old niece a perfect marker of time wasted not being closer as brothers. Castiel thinks he was as good of an uncle as he could have been, living as far as he did but maybe in focusing on that, he didn’t give his relationship with Jimmy as much attention. 

He knows now that even brotherly bonds aren’t impenetrable. They need to be nurtured, just as much as any other. It’s his hope that Jimmy might be just as interested in making up for lost time. 

Before Jimmy can answer him, Claire returns, her eyes wide and anxious. She sets down the tray with their tea and Castiel stands so she can sit, pouring tea for them all once Jimmy nods at his holding up the pot in offering. 

He listens as Jimmy tells his daughter the abridged version of events. He hopes it’s the last time he has to hear it, if he’s being honest. It breaks his heart all over again to watch silent tears slip down Claire’s cheeks as Jimmy talks. 

Grabbing the box of tissues, Castiel sits on the edge of Jimmy’s desk and pulls one free for her, almost falling off the desk when she throws herself on him. He can barely process her tight hug when she’s throwing herself into her father’s arms. 

“Shh, Claire, please don’t cry,” Jimmy tries to soothe her, looking at Castiel worriedly. 

Her voice is wet with tears when she’s finally able to answer. “But you and Uncle Cas were just _ babies, _ daddy and—and you didn’t have _ anyone _.” 

Castiel’s heart rips in half again. Jimmy holds Claire tighter and doesn’t break his gaze with Castiel. 

“That’s not true, princess, that’s not true,” he says, his voice calming Castiel too. “We weren’t alone Claire, we never were… we always had each other.” He presses a kiss to her hair. “We still do.” 

All his twin has to do is open his arm and Castiel is there, leaning into their hug and letting himself get wrapped in it. A calm spreads through him, a feeling he didn’t know he was without until he had it back. 

Never in a million years did Castiel think this would be the outcome, that this would be the thing to begin their healing as a family. 

Together, they sit down around a corner of the desk, Jimmy having dragged his office chair over for Castiel to sit while he presented the two cakes that Dean made. Castiel’s boyfriend being the genius that he is, Dean packed plates and utensils enough for all of them, including a few candles and a lighter, and a note saying that seventy-eight candles was considered a fire hazard, making Claire snort with laughter when he reads it out loud. 

“Happy birthday, fellas,” Castiel reads, smiling at Dean’s messy scrawl. He squints down at the paper. “P.S. Hi, Claire,” Castiel finishes, shaking his head. 

Jimmy is already eating a piece of his vanilla cake, humming appreciatively around the bite.

“You know, we’re supposed to blow out candles.” Castiel pulls his twin’s piece away so he can stick a candle in it. 

“And sing,” Claire reminds them both. “I got dad this morning when he was trying to sneak out and you didn’t answer my calls so I’m singing it again.” 

Knowing he’s powerless to stop her, Castiel holds his hands up in surrender. He even sings along, after he lights the two birthday candles, which the twins both blow out with identical rolls of their blue eyes. 

“It’s weird when you two do twin stuff,” Claire announces, before she spears a piece of each flavor on her fork and eats them both in one bite. 

The twins are just happy to eat their cake until Jimmy wipes his face with a (also provided) napkin and clears his throat. “Claire, since your uncle is here, I think it’s a good time to talk about NYU.” 

Claire’s eyes grow into saucers, wider still when Jimmy stands and gets something from inside his desk. He presents the folder to a still surprised Claire, who puts her plate down before accepting it with a shaking hand. 

“Those are enrollment documents, completed, for you to attend a creative writing course this year. At NYU,” he clarifies and Castiel is just as shocked as Claire seems to be. Jimmy goes on. “It runs throughout your regular school year, so it would mean a lot of dedication on your part. You’d have to attend a class at NYU three days a week once you’re done with your regular classes and you’d be responsible for getting yourself there _ on time _.” 

Jimmy is enjoying this, watching Claire and Castiel grow more and more surprised.

“If you think you want to take on that much responsibility, I’ll sign the consent form.” his expression softens. “I want you to be happy, Claire and I’m tired of being the one to stand in the way of that.” Jimmy’s voice goes quiet. “I’m sorry I did for so long.” 

Claire responds by throwing her arms around her dad’s neck to hug him tightly and Castiel’s never been prouder of his twin. Before he leaves, Jimmy stops him with an apology for the last time they fought, for the things he said. Castiel apologizes for the subterfuge and his lost temper and they part with a promise to both do better. Jimmy’s going to call him in the next few days, after he’s gone through all the documents. Castiel vows to share any information Sam gives them as soon as he has it. 

Their visit could not have gone any better.

The whole way home, Castiel is lost in thought. Over and over, he goes through everything again, and each time, his mind trips up when he gets back to the money. Even split between them, it’s more money than Castiel could ever imagine having and every time he thinks about it, his dream of re-branding his business as a children’s store feels more and more like a reality that might actually be possible. 

It’s exhilarating, the feeling that _ anything _might be possible.

He’s still daydreaming as he climbs the steps out of the subway, and as his beloved arch comes into view, he smiles at the thought of his parents meeting under it to start their story. Feeling especially wistful, he decides he needs to pass through, maybe for good luck, for nostalgia, for everything it’s meant to him, his whole life and even before it began. 

Castiel shouldn’t be surprised when a very familiar, deep voice pulls him from his musings. 

“Hey sweetheart, think we might be able to walk you home?” 

Dean is leaning against the arch, one foot propped against it, and Pug, fast asleep in the crook of his arm. He’s wearing his favorite black ripped jeans and his boots, a new dash of yellow paint on the tip of the toe that wasn’t there before. Dean must have been painting out on the patio this evening while Castiel was away. 

He also has on one of Castiel’s hoodies, this one red and matching the one Pug is sleeping in. 

They are, without a doubt, the sweetest sight for his sore eyes and Castiel’s heart swells with love for the both of them, his whole entire life standing together, just waiting for him to join them so they can get started. 

Dean pushes himself off the wall with his foot as Castiel goes to him, and he doesn’t hesitate to greet Castiel with a kiss. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says, loving the way Dean’s face softens. 

“Heya, Cas,” he replies, pushing their foreheads together. “You were smiling as you walked up so I take it things went well?”

“Better than I could have ever hoped.” And now he’s back in their village, with Dean, and with Pug, and it’s—it’s everything. It makes him smile wider. “Were you waiting for me?” 

“My whole life, pretty sure.” Dean teases him, sweet and sincere.

Castiel’s cheeks warm. “Dean.”

“What? I can’t sweet talk my sweetheart on his birthday?” He gives Castiel another quick kiss before he pulls away, letting his hand slide down Castiel’s arm so he can weave their fingers together. “Ready?” 

Staring into his beautiful, emerald eyes, Castiel knows he’s ready for anything with Dean by his side. He nods. 

Squeezing Castiel’s hand, Dean smiles softly at him. “Then let’s go home.”

»»————- (´･(00)･｀) ————-««

West End Children’s Books re-opens for business one month after Castiel’s thirty-ninth birthday. 

From the moment Castiel expressed his desire to move forward, Dean was on board. Instead of letting Castiel hire the same company that completed the previous remodel, Dean insisted that Bobby and his crew would handle it, and the day after Castiel closed his uncle’s business for good, a group of rather large men arrived with tools and paint and a lot of noise and Castiel swears he saw Rowena casting a spell in their direction, most likely in the pursuit of some peace and quiet. Bobby’s men work fast however, and within two weeks, the work is complete. 

That’s when Dean takes over. For a week, he only works in the store and when he’s done, every single wall has a freshly painted and stunningly beautiful mural on it. Each one is themed after a different children’s book and his largest, and most impressive one is dedicated to _ Supernatural _. 

He’s taken the liberty to make the car from the book the same as his Baby, painted black and displayed prominently in the middle, with both brothers sitting on the hood, their angelic protector behind them, his onyx black wings dominating the scene. They’ve both since finished the book, and the angel happens to be Castiel’s favorite. 

Dean’s even incorporated Claire’s original female characters from her story as a nod to her creativity and, as he puts it, the expansion of her family legacy. They’re standing off to one side, looking fierce and “badass” as Dean likes to say.

The mural is painted above the brand new Young Adult section. 

Dean’s also taken it upon himself to paint Pug into every single scene, either as a character or a pet of one of the characters. He’s hanging out of the front seat of the Impala, in the Supernatural mural. Castiel loves every single painting and he can’t stop staring at them every time he comes downstairs. 

The last week before they open, the inventory arrives. In a stroke of genius, Dean suggested trying to sell his uncle’s books to Crowley and when Dean made it sound like Castiel had _ multiple _ interested buyers, Crowley paid twice as much as Castiel was asking, just so he could win. 

Crowley doesn’t need to know there weren’t any other buyers, aside from a small wholesaler in Newark that Castiel had reached out to, just in case. He uses the extra money to overstock, putting everything in the one remaining storage space Castiel never got rid of, except now, he can pay people to make the trip to the Bronx for anything he needs. He’s already considering hiring another employee, if business does well.

People keep showing up to help. Castiel’s sure he’s never seen Ash as much as he has recently, the man coming and going at all hours helping Dean with anything he needs. Bobby is in and out a lot, at first just to oversee the construction and then after, to visit with Dean while he painted, under the guise that he was helping. When it comes time to stock the store, Bobby shows up every day to help with alphabetizing and to keep everyone else on task by barking gruff orders at them when he notices them slacking. 

Unfortunately, slacking to Bobby includes almost every moment Castiel finds to steal a kiss from Dean as they work. 

Once it was decided to re-do things, Dean insisted they have a big party to introduce the new store to the village and despite Castiel’s reservations, Dean was able to wear him down pretty easy. When he isn’t helping Castiel with the set up, he’s planning the party.

To say it’s all one great big whirlwind from start to finish is an understatement. 

The morning of their grand re-opening dawns clear and bright. Dean’s already out of bed when Castiel wakes and listening to him move around the apartment makes a calm settle over him. He’s been nervous, the days leading up, but they’re here and before he knows it, today will be over and done. Castiel intends to appreciate every moment. 

The morning is spent fixing the last-minute things that always need to be fixed and making sure all the other arrangements are in place. It’s just the three of them as the clock ticks down to noon, which is when they plan to open for the day. Pug hasn’t exactly loved all the construction and the way he’s been forbidden from helping, but he has enjoyed all the attention that’s been lavished on him by people stopping by the office to pet him. It’s where Castiel had to keep him, so he could at least _ hear _ what’s happening and be available for snuggles, anytime anyone needed him. 

Today, he’s sharply dressed in a brand new tutu, black with strips of blue, purple, and pink, with glittery silver stars on the tips. Castiel swears that instead of his normal trot, Pug is prancing a little more than usual and he’s not sure if it’s because he feels handsome, or if it’s because he can pick up on their nervous energy.

That energy intensifies, the moment Castiel gets a glimpse of the _ huge _ crowd waiting out on their patio and beyond. Dean wasn’t kidding when he said he invited the whole village. Steeling himself, Castiel goes to open the door to welcome their guests. 

Together, they’re standing under the last mural Dean painted over the door, a message for every person who visits their humble space. _ Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost _ is painted in a cursive script, surrounded by sparkling gold, blues, and greens, the quote one of Castiel’s favorites from his favorite book and one that resonates for both of them, since they found each other.

Dean stops Castiel before his hand can reach the handle. 

“Babe? Real quick…” Turning back towards him, Castiel tilts his head in confusion but Dean is all smiles and very quickly, Castiel realizes why.

Dean’s fixing a new pin to the front of his maroon sweater, right next to his rainbow pin. Heart beating fast, Castiel peers down at it, gasping when he sees that the pin is of the store’s new logo: Pug sitting on a stack of books. It’s intricate and colorful and the perfect gift to commemorate the day.

“Dean, this is so lovely, thank you.” Staring at him, Castiel takes in Dean’s pink blush, contrasting nicely with his cornflower blue hair. Dean said it was the color of Castiel’s eyes on a stormy day, and that’s why he chose it for the party. “And thank you for everything else. I doubt we’d be here today without you.” 

Dean scoffs. “This is all you, darlin’. I’m just here to look pretty.” 

“Oh, you do,” Castiel tells him, attempting a straight face which Dean sees right through. “But seriously, thank you.”

Dean smiles wryly at him. “Thank me later, pending no unforeseeable issues.”

Castiel wrinkles his brow. “What could possibly go wrong?” 

“Never say that! You’re just asking the universe for trouble.” 

“Well then, kiss me, and we’ll have all the luck we need.” 

Shaking his head, Dean leans in to do as he’s told, his soft pink lips brushing Castiel’s own and making all his nerve endings sing. “You always such a sap?” 

“Something I picked up from my boyfriend,” Castiel replies, just as smitten. 

They’re both still grinning when Castiel flips his new hand drawn sign from _ Closed _ to _ Open, _officially opening West End Children’s Books for the very first time.

The party is a success from start to finish. When Dean created the poster to announce the opening, he made the party open to all, pets _ encouraged. _ Considering the fact that there will always be a pig running around the store, they saw it fitting to invite their neighbors along with their pets. 

So many of Dean’s charges come, all of them pulling their owners leashes anytime they spot Dean in the crowd. Castiel meets them all, including the dog from Dean’s socks. At one point, Benny stops by with a few of the other firefighters in tow, along with a new addition to the squad, a two-year-old dalmation that Dean is delighted to meet. 

“We named her Dean, on account of her having rolled around in the grass before we found her. She had a bright green grass stain on top of her head so we felt compelled,” Benny informs him, his eyes twinkling. Dean laughs so hard, it almost worries Castiel that he’s stopped breathing. 

Dean immediately steals the rookie’s job and offers to walk his namesake for free. 

Pug makes friends with every animal that comes through the door. He greets them all like they’re long-lost friends and soon enough, there’s a small pack moving about. Pug leads them all, but Castiel can count four other small dogs, Eleanor the German Shepherd, Dean the Dalmatian, at least two cats, and a very cheeky European Starling bird that, at the moment, is sitting on top of Pug’s head, Pug not at all bothered by his new friend hitching a ride. 

Castiel met the bird earlier when it was perched on top of _ Dean’s _head, attracted to his blue hair, Castiel bets. He learns his name is Einstein and that his mom is a huge fan of Supernatural. 

Their Village is full of the most interesting people. 

Speaking of which, all of their friends stop by to show their support. Donna, Jody, and Alex arrive at the same time as Claire and Jimmy and shortly after, Sam, with the twins and Eileen in tow. Bela is nowhere to be seen, and Castiel isn’t even upset about it. Rowena came in yesterday to “cleanse the store’s aura” and today, she’s by the door laughing about something with Ellen. Ash, Jo, and Kevin are by the new Story Corner and the three of them are trying all the different fun hats Dean and Castiel picked out for future story time adventures. 

The store is bustling, packed with customers, and family, and friends and aside from never seeing it this full, Castiel’s finding it hard to wrap his head around the fact that all these people are here, in support of him. It’s humbling, to realize how far he’s come, and how much he’s gained, just by returning to the place he always considered to be the closest thing to home he’s ever had. 

Seeing all of his people in one place, Castiel knows there’s nowhere else he belongs. 

He’s observing the crowd when strong arms wrap around his waist from behind. “Proud of you, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs in his ear before he runs his nose along the back of Castiel’s neck, making him shiver and turn in Dean’s embrace. 

The seriousness in Dean’s face makes Castiel pause and study him, Castiel noticing that Dean appears nervous, which is out of place during this otherwise festive day. Dean goes on before Castiel can ask what’s wrong. 

“You’re incredible, did you know that?” 

It’s not what Castiel was expecting. 

“I know my timing is shit, it usually is, and I wanted to wait to do this but I was over there by the story corner and I saw you here and, well—” 

Castiel’s mouth drops open when Dean sinks to one knee. 

“I’ve been going through this world just waiting for the next bad thing, you know? My whole life’s been like that, Cas, until I met you. The moment I saw you squinting up at me from your picnic blanket, I was done for. And then that little pig ran out from behind you and that was that. The bad road ended.” 

The ring Dean pulls from the pocket of his jacket is dark silver with a pattern of divots, hand forged and held up to him in between the thumb and forefinger of the love of Castiel’s life and it’s being offered to him without hesitation or expectation and Castiel is overwhelmed with humility and gratitude, that a man like Dean could love him so much. 

Castiel can only kneel beside him and wrap his hands around Dean’s that holds the ring, a lifetime of happiness, should Castiel want it. He needs to be level with Dean when he looks into his eyes and accepts the tender heart Dean’s offering him. 

The chatter and excitement of the store falls silent, as the crowd realizes what’s happening. 

“You make everything real, Cas. You’ve never made me feel like nothing, and to me, that counts for something.” Leaning in, Dean brushes their lips together. “I love you, Cas, so much, and I can’t imagine a life without us.” 

Hearing Dean say those words completes him. “You don’t have to, you never have to imagine that,” Castiel replies, tightening his hands and kissing Dean harder this time until Dean pulls back.

His eyes shining, Dean doesn’t waiver. “Want you to be my forever Cas… will you marry me?” 

Nodding, Castiel’s answer is lost in the joy of the crowd as they embrace, Dean holding him close, one hand in Castiel’s hair. Castiel still wants Dean to hear him say it. 

“You’re our forever, Dean,” he whispers, ignoring the mayhem and only existing for the man in his arms. “Of course I’ll marry you.” 

As he accepts Dean’s proposal, a very insistent pig, minus his entourage, pushes his way between them, excited to see his dad’s down on his level. He kisses under Dean’s chin first and then Castiel’s and in doing so, he accepts Dean’s proposal as well. 

As if the day couldn’t get any better. Until Dean slips the perfectly sized engagement ring on Castiel’s finger and the rest of it is a blur. 

It’s not until the three of them are alone again, with the store closed and all their revelers gone home, that Castiel and Dean have a moment to breathe together. Their families stayed much later than expected to celebrate their engagement and while that was incredible, Castiel’s content to be alone with his fiance and their little friend, Pug fast asleep in his arms after his exhausting day.

The pig’s tutu is discarded on the sofa and there’s litter and abandoned plates and half deflated balloons and just a lot of general chaos left over, but none of that matters when Dean pulls Castiel close, humming what Castiel thinks is _ Somebody to Love _under his breath as he sways them back and forth, careful not to squish Pug.

“You know, you might be a little nuts, marrying me. People will talk.” It’s clear Dean’s joking and it makes Castiel smile. 

“Let them,” he states. “They’re just jealous that I somehow landed the most handsome man in the Village.”

“Your great ass really helped,” Dean informs him, and it makes Castiel throw his head back and laugh. When he looks back at Dean, he’s staring at Castiel like he invented pie or something. 

Castiel can’t help but ask. “What?” 

“You. You just make me believe anything’s possible.” 

“Well that’s because we’re just very good at making this up as we go along,” Castiel informs him, like he’s letting Dean in on a great big secret. “Plus you know, love.”

“Mmm right, that.” Nosing at Castiel’s jaw, he can feel Dean’s beautiful smile without seeing it and Castiel looks forward to a forever filled with them. 

“Love you, Cas. Forever.” 

“I love you too, Dean. Forever.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed their story! I appreciate you for taking the time to read and I hope, more than anything, that you loved this verse as much as I did! If so, please leave a comment and come see me over on Tumblr or Twitter. <3
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